


Games Without Frontiers

by Crack_Alchemist



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Crack, Angst and Humor, Conflict, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Intimidation, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Romance, Royai - Freeform, Sexual Content, Sexual Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 132,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3480071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crack_Alchemist/pseuds/Crack_Alchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What people do in their spare time should be their business, right?  Well, when it's the Peanut Gallery of Fullmetal Alchemist, nothing goes as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU, because I blend a little FMA, gently fold in some FMA:B, and liberally sprinkle with all kinds of headcanons. Some OOC, because, yeah, circumstances. It is also an almost total rewrite of my original fic, completed in 2005. Trigger Warnings will be labeled accordingly, and tags and warnings updated as needed.
> 
> Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go and do the Carlton Dance.
> 
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale. Check the current music for the song.

**]o[  ]o[  ]o[**

**Games without Frontiers**

**by Crack Alchemist**

**Prologue**

**Rating: PG**

 

It had been a lazy day at work, which left Jean lethargic as he puttered around his small flat, scraping the last bits of meat from the flimsy paper take away container.  He paused in front of his laundry in the corner beside his bed and squinted at the rather large, offending pile.  As he considered it, he wondered how long he could go before he would have to get it done.  

 

He saw from the sad state of his closet that he was down to one regular uniform, his dress uniform and one suit that he wore when he went on dates.  He grimaced and made a face at it, hanging there in near pristine, virtually unused condition.  Looking down at his shirtless self, he realized he was down to his last pair of pajama bottoms.  He probably could go another two or three days before the Colonel gave him that look that said he noticed that the uniform he wore was on the verge of mutiny.  He certainly couldn’t go much longer than that before the First Lieutenant pistol-whipped him all the way to the laundress.

 

He chucked the container in the trash and collapsed on his couch just as the phone rang.  He sighed and answered it, wondering who would be calling him at that late hour.  Certainly it wasn’t a potential date; as far as that part of his life went, his well had definitely run dry.  He listened attentively when he heard Lieutenant Colonel Hughes’s voice on the other end. 

 

Then when he heard the Lieutenant Colonel’s crack-pot scheme unfold, Jean thought that perhaps the fumes from ink used to reproduce all those papers in the Investigations Division at Central had finally rotted Hughes’s brain. But, he told himself, the Lieutenant Colonel out-ranked him, so he kept that opinion to himself.

 

He had absolutely nothing to say while he processed the scheme and the request that came with it, and could only listen to the crickets calling outside of his window while he summoned up some sort of intelligent response.

 

After a moment, he gave up.  He had nothing.


	2. Jeux Sans Frontiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She made sure to wait until the office was empty before she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Rating: PG  
> Soundtrack: Games Without Frontiers - Peter Gabriel

She made sure to wait until the office was empty before she left. It wasn’t a difficult thing.  The three hoodlums – Breda, Fuery and Havoc – managed to escape the office before their allotted time.  They thought she hadn’t noticed them, but she had.  Choosing not to shoot down their plan was her choice.  Falman – the only regularly sane one of the lot – left at exactly his _allotted_ time. He gave her his usual formal goodbye which she returned with a solemn look.

She even allowed the Colonel to leave before her, a rare treat for him. He looked at her as if she’d been sniffing rounds of gunpowder and containers of glue, then lollygagged around, to make sure she wasn’t going to change her mind and pile drive him with a metric ton of paperwork. She sighed and ignored him. She wasn’t going to change her mind. She just wasn’t in the mood for unnecessary remonstrations on her way out of the door.  Her plans allowed for no distractions.

After the Colonel scurried off, she cherished the silence around for as long as she dared. She could hear the faint shuffle of people cleaning the hallways, but the office proper was silent aside from the whirring of the cool air and the swish of papers that were disturbed by the ventilation.  She eyed those papers, stacked on the high cabinet and made a mental note to have them moved back to the Colonel’s desk first thing in the morning.

She checked her timepiece and frowned. She was cutting things close. Too close. She had too much to do this evening, and not enough time to do it.  In fact, there would be hell to pay if she didn’t manage to pull off this assignment, more hell than she could imagine. And that left no time for dithering.

On her way out, however, she did straighten the Colonel’s desk, returning the memoranda he needed to sign first to the top of the desk from the bottom drawer where he’d stuffed them. It was the least she could do. He could thank her in the morning.

 

###

 

The first thing she did when she closed the door behind her was release a deep exhalation that waved from her head to her toes. Then she pulled the clip from her hair and worked her fingers through it to massage away the tightness in her scalp.

_She’d made it through one more day._

 

Puppy claws clicking on the hardwood floor heralded the arrival of her little one; tongue hanging and eyes sparkling, he gave her a yap of welcome. She scooped the ball of fur into her arms and deposited a quick kiss to the top of his head. Dropping him to the floor, she watched him head straight for the kitchen. Her mouth twisted; she could picture Hayate seated, stump of tail wiggling, waiting for his dinner.

Ah, yes. Dinner.

Riza gave an explosive sigh, another release of tension coiled tight in her midsection, and headed for the kitchen, delaying the inevitable for another few minutes.

Her maternal responsibly discharged for the moment, and her four-footed roommate satisfied, she turned toward her bedroom, her steps as precise as they were during her work day. She wouldn’t escape from work mode until she reached her sanctuary and could do one little thing.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she placed the heel of her boot in the contraption and pulled. She did the same with the other boot. Then, and only then, was she finally free of the fetters of work. She lay back on the bed and contemplated the ceiling as she wiggled her toes. The uniform never bothered her, the buttons and hooks and stays never irritated her as much as those dammed boots. No matter what anyone said, military boots never, ever fit right.

She rolled her head to the right and considered the clock on the wall above her bed. She had exactly two hours to get ready.

_One hour, fifty-nine minutes and fifty-six seconds. Fifty-three. Fifty._

She tried to rub the tiredness out of her eyes as she sat up, to no avail. She wished she could cancel, but cancelling was not even in the realm of possibility.

She got up to strip her uniform. As she unbuttoned the jacket, she reached in the pocket to pull out the scrap of paper. It had been slipped onto her desk by a person in a blue uniform. The only reason she missed seeing him (or her) was that she was shaking her head over the condition of a memorandum the Colonel had left on her desk. Sometimes, he wrote like a six year old on school vacation.  And ink blots were inexcusable.

And, later, when she’d had the time to interrogate properly, no one would confess doing the deed. Then she done something very unwise – she read it.

Now, she flung the traitorous thing on the bed and finished peeling away the layers of security she called her uniform.

She didn’t retrieve the paper until she’d deposited her clothes in the hamper. Standing there in her practical underwear and slightly scrunched black dress socks, she worked the paper between her fingers. Folded twice, it was a little neat square that had the potential to upend her neat little world. She unfolded it.

_First Lieutenant, You will arrive at the aforementioned place at the aforementioned time. Your prey will be in a discreet place within the location. Punctuality is essential. No time must be wasted._

 

 

As if she had been late for anything in her life.

While, it was not mentioned there, she recalled the name of the place and the time, that had been scrawled on the bottom of one of the sheets of official documentation submitted for approval. Again, interrogation got no results. Then, she made the connection between the scribbles and the note. After that, she spent the rest of her day at her desk, nose pressed to wrinkled folders and ink-blotted paperwork.

She looked at the clock again. Exactly one hour, fifty-six minutes and – forty-seven seconds from that moment.

_Forty-six._

_Forty-four._

_All of the equipment you need for this assignment should have been delivered via courier this morning. I have full confidence that you will complete this assignment with all of the diligence and attention to detail that you utilize in the performance of every assignment._

She flung the offending piece of paper again. It fluttered in the air a moment, did and interesting little spin and landed in the center of her bed. She summoned up every foul word she’d never dared use during the day and stomped into the shower. That tension, right in the center of her shoulder blades, was back again.

Somewhere, in some rule book, she would find out later that what she was about to do was wrong. She knew it was wrong.

 _So, why,_ she asked herself, _why did you even agree to do it?_ Because that is what she’d done by even keeping the dammed slip of paper in her pocket for the entirety of the day.

Because she promised. And if there was one thing Riza Hawkeye did, she kept her promises. No matter how unconventional the promise was, or how potentially mind-bending or world-rending, she would keep her promises.

And of all the promises she’d made since becoming a dog of the military, this was the most unconventional, mind-bending and world-rending.

Insubordination? What a kind word. 

This was bordering on sheer mutiny.

But, she did promise.

 

 


	3. Like a Bullet to the Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crack went the slingshot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is completely AU. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories. Nothing else related to any episode of any kind, except the usage of the character(s) in question, though some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”
> 
> Also, in case it hasn't soaked in, each chapter is titled after a lyric in the soundtrack. Check out the song while you read; it's fun.

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 2. Like a Bullet to Your Brain**

**Rating: PG**

**Soundtrack: Livin la Vida Loca – Ricky Martin**

 

 

Riza let the hot water pound at her for all of ten minutes, letting the hot water ease the itching of the scars on her back.  Then she took care of the necessary ablutions, climbed out of the shower, brushed her teeth, toweled her hair dry, and padded back into the bedroom toward the discreetly-wrapped package on her the top of her dresser.

Naked and dripping, she reluctantly untied the string and unwrapped the brown paper slowly. Opened the lid of the box and looked inside. Then she recalled a few more of those choice words, even as she pulled one of the pieces of ‘equipment’ from the box.

The tailor had to have been an expert. The tiniest row of buttons she’d ever seen trailed up the side. On her, the hemline would have reached somewhere obscenely near mid-thigh.

A little black dress. Part of her equipment included a little black dress. Something that, supposedly, every woman worth her salt owned, but she had only seen from the other side of the dressmaker’s window.

“Bastard,” she snarled. “Son of a motherless bitch.”

She instinctively stopped and looked around, appalled that such words even escaped her deepest thoughts, then recalled she was alone in her own house and could say whatever the hell she wanted to say.

That fine print on her job description? That little line that said _and other duties as assigned_? It could kiss her ass. People took much too much advantage of such phrases. People knew that when Riza committed herself, there would be no question of her following through.

Was such an elaborate display necessary? She asked herself. Couldn’t she just walk in, do the deed, and leave? The note said her prey was in a discreet location; who would see her? Why did she need such an elaborate, obnoxious disguise? She hated this!

_But_ , that annoying voice said once again, _you promised_.

Apparently all promises, like shit, rolled downhill. Well, this promise had to be at the very bottom of the shit pile of a life that she suddenly knew was in store for her.

The offending garment found its way in the middle of the bed with the scrap of paper. As did just about everything else in the box. Especially the lace... She held up something that resembled nothing less than a...a sling shot. Where the hell was she expected to put that...piece of string? Oh, hell no. She’d eat dog food first! In fact...she whistled.

Black Hayate appeared, tail wagging questioningly. She pitched the obscene thing at him, and soon he was happily wrestling with it in a corner of her room.

The only things she kept were the nice, shiny new shoulder holster, the intriguing domino mask, and the satiny chemise. When she ran the thing through her fingers she couldn’t resist.

And, at the bottom, under the tissue was the last thing she would need.

A gun.

A gun untraceable to her. Something that Riza Hawkeye would never own, simply because it was a gun that the military would never requisition. It was too small and impractical, a snub-nosed thing that would fit in the palm of a large man’s hand. It was a weapon meant for covert action. She took a moment to admire it.

It would do the job.

The phone rang, jarring her out of her admiration. She moved to the front room, picked up the receiver with a nervous hand. “Hello?”

“There was a fire at the library. In Central.”

She stiffened. The voice on the other end was hoarse, clipped, and angry. “A fire? How–what happened?”

“No information yet.”

She fingered the receiver, choosing her words carefully. “Are we... cancelling the plan?”

“Absolutely not. However, proceed with caution.”

Riza’s lip curled. “But–?”

“All will be taken care of in the morning.”

“But–?”

“The plan is still in motion,” the voice snapped, tight, like a noose around her neck. “Just don’t lay it on as thick as we originally planned.”

Riza started, the glared at the receiver. “If the plan is still in motion, how will everything be taken care of in the morning? Things will be... different then.”

“In a sense. But trust me. It will be taken care of.”

Riza was silent, unable to argue, also unable to account for the suspicious prickle behind her eyes. Her eyes flicked to the clock again. She was down to one hour and forty-five minutes and, thirty-seven seconds. “I have to go. I am on a close schedule.”

There was a pause. Then: “You will be rewarded for your actions, First Lieutenant. Believe me. You will be rewarded.”

"Yes, sir.  Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I don't wear slingshots."

She hung up before she told them what she really thought of this whole plan. Reward indeed. Well, her first reward would be that she was not going to wear that ridiculous disguise supplied her. She would create one of her own.

She snatched open her closet door and considered her choices. On the right side hung ten perfectly pressed and starched uniforms. It paid to be the one who passed the paperwork to the Colonel. He would sign anything she placed in front of him, and hadn’t even noticed that he’d given her permission to requisition two more uniforms than she was supposed to have. That event had made her day; she even managed to scare all of them with her secretive little smile.

On the left side of the closet hung her off-duty clothes. Boring little scraps of cloth, to say the least. Boring, but practical. Slacks, blouses, one skirt (that came to her knees, thank you very much), and....

The second smile of the day touched her features as she pulled the last article of clothing out of the closet. A clandestine purchase; almost no one knew she owned it. She’d planned that shopping trip to the second, and only took the pup with her.

It, like the gun, would do.

The suit was black, which was the assigned color. Tailored for her trim form, it was fine, lined linen. Perfect for her assigned task.

She dressed in record time. She’d taken a few seconds to choose the most practical, soft cotton white panties she could find in her drawer.

Braless, the chemise followed, then the shoulder holster, then the jacket. Deceptively created to look a bit too big for her, it buttoned perfectly an inch below her breastbone, cut close to her waistline and flared slightly at her hip. With the beige chemise, it look like she wasn’t even wearing a shirt from a distance. That would certain draw attention away from parts of her that were more recognizable.

She wasted another moment to admire the look in the mirror. Powerful. Brilliant. Overwhelming, even. An illicit thrill filled her. And when she was finished, no one would recognize her in it, even if they looked her right in her face.  No one would even connect her with such a scandalous wardrobe.

The clock told her that she had one-hour to go.

She moved to the mirror and made short work of her face. There wasn’t much she could do with ram-rod straight blonde hair. She left it hanging free, chewing on her lip for an idea. She snapped her fingers finally and rummaged in the top drawer of her dresser. Hair fixative judiciously applied, and she’d coaxed it into a radical style. Side parted, a length of her hair fell over the side of her face, obscuring her features just enough to offer a hint of mystery. Even if someone should try to look closely at her, the hair would be in their way. With the hairstyle, she found she could discard the domino mask. It went the way of the sling shot.

Finally. Nodding slowly at her reflection, she felt like she was as ready as she would ever get.


	4. If Looks Could Kill, They Probably Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Officer's Ball and the game has begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Games Without Frontiers - Peter Gabriel

Games without Frontiers

Chapter 3. If Looks Could Kill, They Probably Will

Rating: PG

Soundtrack: Games without Frontiers – Ricky Martin

 

Her driver had been chosen carefully. Sergeant Carey Dennison was a lower-ranking officer that few people knew and fewer people in Eastern would believe if he’d decided to run off at the mouth. Riza barely knew his name herself, but she knew that look when she stepped out of her house. The poor young man, dressed in civilian clothing, looked like his mouth had been locked like the Great Treasury of Amestris.  Knowing the Lieutenant Colonel, he probably had a shiny, skinny little knife waiting with the soldier’s name on it, should he be indiscreet.

The car had also been chosen carefully for the mission. Not the regulation black sedan car. It was a sleek thing, colored a gunmetal gray, the perfect color to slice through the night like a shadow. It allowed her to move through the streets in relative anonymity, a rare pleasure that almost made the whole mission worth the price she had to pay.

_Almost._

As she entered the car, she saw a white envelope on the seat. A man's cologne lingered in the air, like the scent of a trail. It was a heady scent she remembered from almost a decade in the past.  Dread tightened her chest as she picked it up and broke the seal. What now?

Inside was a key and another folded note. She sighed to herself, remembering, and flicked open the paper:

_I took the liberty of performing this task, as it would have been impossible for you to do it yourself without drawing questions._

_Stay firm. You will be rewarded for your actions._

She shook her head and pocketed the key, the note, and the envelope. It would not do to leave any viable evidence behind. The note she tore in to tiny pieces, placed in the ashtray on the right door of the car and set it alight with the shiny lighter she’d found next to the note.  _Smart man, he was. Probably why he earned the big cenz._

As the car wound its way toward the destination, she hitched her shoulder and pushed herself into the corner of the plush leather seat, and went through the original conversation again, the one that had placed her on this dubious path:

_“I do not believe you.”_

_“It needs to be done.”_

_“No, I don’t believe it does.”_

_“It’s been too long this time.  There’s no other choice.”_

_“Yes, there is,” she’d said. “We could choose to do nothing. Leave a sleeping dog lie. As we’ve always done.”_

_“The longer there is inactivity, the worse the situation will become.”_

_“And you think I could even contemplate doing this kind of thing?”_

_  
_

_“You are the only one who can.”_

She cursed under her breath. The only one who could? Like hell, she was. In fact, she was positive that there were any number of people who would be more than willing to do this. Do it happily, and pull it off with much more expertise.

Definitely much more expertise.

But she was the one who was wanted. Every adjective possible was used to emphasize the fact that she was uniquely suited to this task.

She’d still resisted. Until the request was fashioned into an order. Then she had only one thing to say.

“I’ve got a lot to lose and you’re betting high.”

“Yes.”

“Forgive the insubordination, sir, but I hate you.”

A slow curve at the corner of his mouth told her how much he believed her. “All right.”

“Just tell me where to begin.”

The aforementioned place came into view in short order. When the car pulled up, she paused. This was the final chance she had to back out, to change her mind. To disobey a direct order.

Discipline was drilled deep into her bones, was infused in her blood. Marked in her skin with calluses on her fingers, and the muscles in her arms, honed well from hefting the powerful firepower she found herself fascinated with. Discipline was in scars, minor in comparison to some, that had faded to pink patches and thin white lines on her body like an alchemical array, fusing the inability to disobey a direct order into her very soul.

She gave the driver her hand, so he could help her from the car. Another luxury that heightened her excitement level.  He bowed slightly and slipped another envelope into her hand; this one a heavy one, filled with the appropriate invitation.

She heard the music before she crossed the threshold and handed her card over. The trill of pretty piano keys touched by an expert hand. This year, the Officer’s Ball was a rather genteel party, not at all like the first one she’d attended as a fresh First Lieutenant.

The Grand Hall, where the Ball was held, was still a cavernous place, and it was filled to the brim with military regalia of many designs.  To the right of the hall officers milled about with their escorts and among one another.  She smirked when she saw the two members of her own office who’d made sure they were in attendance and, from all appearances, were actually making an attempt to behave.  The left of the hall was where she wanted to be, with the civilians who’d been invited.  The Ball was a mixer, for all intents and purposes, a place where young officers could meet pretty young women to be traditional with, and where older officers could show off their status.

As soon as she began to move toward her destination, the tone of the party on the left suddenly changed when she made her foot move from the outside to the inside. Riza could feel the air shake, or maybe it was just her own nerves rattling the fine hairs on her body. She saw all eyes on her as she moved, slowly, deliberately into the crowd. There was over one hundred people here, military officers and guests. She made a careful sweep of the room with her gaze, picked out a few people she knew, glimpsed a door that was opened a crack somewhere near the back of the ball room, behind the bar.

Few couples made their way to the dance floor, curiosity causing them to follow her with their eyes. Riza found a section of wall to lean against, somewhere between that door in the back and the entrance. She decided that she would take her time, and observe the goings on around her. After all, it was a rare thing that she attend one of the functions.

 

Never had she been the type to socialize. She did the minimum of what was required at functions that required dress uniforms only. Only once had she accepted one invitation to one of these officer’s balls, and since had never once contemplate attending another. Staying in good graces was the Colonel’s job; she was merely a piece on his board.  From her vantage point, she spotted a knot of fellows, and she tensed for a minute. Breda, Havoc, Fuery... the fellows from the office were here! Of course, they would be.  They never missed a formal gathering; they all thought it only fair that they have the good with the bad. 

She had drawn their attention when she entered; she could see Breda still staring in her direction, gesturing wildly with a hand. Quickly, she moved her eyes away from them and prayed silently that they had not recognized. If so, all would be lost.

Some young waiter came by her with a tray of drinks. She took one of the proffered glasses with a smile. The poor thing tripped on his way past her and almost lost the rest of the tray. Really. She hadn’t expected this kind of response to her new look. Was this how the secretarial pool got so much attention? Perhaps she would use it more often.

_All right, back on track, girl. This isn’t a game you can play lightly._

She snorted and pounded down the shot. The whiskey burned its way down her throat as if the Colonel had stood right inside her mouth and snapped. Fortunately her hair covered her face, and the lights were low, so no one saw the swift color that suffused her features as she tried to regain her life’s breath.

Placing the glass on the windowsill beside her, Riza patted the inside pocket of her suit jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Disgusting things, but they completed the look she was trying to achieve. Another bit of subterfuge.  Riza Hawkeye with a cigarette in her mouth?  Never in a million years, nor for a billion cenz.  Not the Riza Hawkeye of office legend, not with the outfit and the hair, and certainly not with the cigarette hanging casually from her fingertips.

“Care for a light, pretty lady?”

Riza froze in the process of bringing the poison stick to her lips. That voice was painfully familiar. Even with the smarmy cadence he’d thrown in for good measure. Perhaps he thought that voice would impress a woman such as the one she presented.

She turned her head slightly, just so he could catch a glancing blow of one brown eye. Not enough to give her away, but enough for her to confirm that the voice did belong to Havoc. And that he was treading on dangerous ground.

He had a smile on his face that was positively oblivious, and was leaning forward with a lighter, ready to swoop in and rescue the dashing damsel in distress. _Not this night, buck-o_. With a roll of her eyes and an upheld hand, she presented Havoc a sudden wish for a long winter coat and a warmer climate. A lighter appeared in her other hand and she pulled the cigarette back in.

“Well,” Havoc muttered. “I never.”

Now that was a lie if she ever heard one. Of course he had. It was legend how many women turned down Jean Havoc. It gave her a tiny twinge of satisfaction that she could count herself among the legion. He would never know, though.

Or perhaps he would. She eyed the door in the back and wondered if that had been part of the plan. An attempted distraction, made to keep her on her toes.

She pretended to take a drag from the cigarette, and kept to her spot for a few moments more. Finally, her curiosity satisfied as to what went on at these functions, she mentally gritted her teeth, cursed floridly insider her own skull and got to work.

Stubbing out the cigarette, she made her way across the room, avoiding the larger groupings, for fear that one of them would try to pull her into conversation. As she passed the group containing her workmates, she heard Havoc tell Breda; “You’re cracked, man. I saw that cold beauty up close. That was _not_ the First Lieutenant. Perhaps you should lay off the sauce.”

 

Riza kept her smile between her teeth. Poor Breda. He could have put money on her identity and won a fortune, and made Havoc look like a fool in the process.

 


	5. And I Need To Be Redeemed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's all she ever knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: AU/Non Canon. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories. Nothing else related to any episode of any kind, except the usage of the character(s) in question, though some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”  
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale. Take a listen… makes it more fun!

Games without Frontiers

Chapter 4: And I Need to Be Redeemed

Rating: PG for Language

Soundtrack: Criminal – Fiona Apple

 

She made damn sure she locked the door behind her. And as soon as she did so, she realized that something was very wrong. Something that was about to send the mission spiraling in a different direction.

 

This did three things to her. The tension smacked her in the face, causing her to lose her breath for a hot second. The virtual darkness disoriented her; her head swiveled toward the only light in the room. And her mind raced to re-write the script in her head.

 

She caught the scent of fresh cigar tobacco. Normally, it gave her a warm feeling.  But tonight, it just served to set her nerves even more on edge. And in the chair at the other end of the room (a library, she discovered as her eyes adjusted), sat her prey.

 

Alone.

 

That was wrong. There was supposed to be someone else here, someone she was supposed to... she moved closer, walking softly across the plush carpet, watching, gauging his movements. He was very being precise. He was laying out cards o the small table in front of him. Solitaire.

 

And there, underneath the smell of the cigar clenched between his teeth, she caught another scent. One she was well familiar with, one she dreaded every time she leaned over his desk in the office and picked it up.

 

Alcohol. A sweet, cloying cognac, one that she was unhappily familiar with. Her heart dropped into her stomach, and this confirmation of her need to be there.

 

He would lay down a card, then pick up the tumbler at his right hand. Take a healthy swig, lay it down. Place another card. He was playing Solitaire and drinking in this room.

 

Alone.

 

Riza shook her head to clear it.

 

But, he was supposed to be... entertaining... on this evening, and she was supposed to be putting on the performance of a life time, just to scare the little tart off, and to shock him into paying attention to her. He wasn’t supposed to be alone, sitting in a dark room, playing Solitaire, stark, raving drunk.

 

“Are you my birthday present?”

 

Riza jumped at his voice, hoarse, muffled by the cigar. Her mind skittered about, retracing the calendar in the Lieutenant Hawkeye portion of her mind. His birthday present. Today was indeed his birthday. Now she understood the urgency, the reason that the plans could not be changed.

 

The words she needed now still hadn’t come to her, so she stood there and waited for him to look up.

 

When he did, she held herself from a flinch, because she could almost see flames licking at the back of his eyes, burning a path somewhere she didn’t want to go. He squinted, trying to see her in the half-light.

 

She could see the moment of recognition like the last second of a timed detonation.

 

“You.”

 

She should have known better than to think he wouldn’t know her.

 

“What are you doing here?” He went back to his playing. “I thought you didn’t attend these silly little functions.”

 

The bitterness under the comment was the thing she needed to find the words. “Intervening on your behalf.”

 

That got his attention. He paused in the deal, and looked up at her. “Are you? On my behalf?”

 

She nodded. “Yes.”

 

“Who sent you here?”

 

“Does that matter?”

 

“Yes. I want to know so that I can kick their ass into next week.”

 

“I’ll take care of that myself.” She would kick Maes’ ass with his own dammed foot when she saw him next. And take the court-martial when it came with a smile. She placed a hand on her hip. “And that’s going to make me tell you who it is?”

 

“Say what you came to say,” he sighed.

 

“It wouldn’t be fitting under these circumstance.”

 

Again he paused, and looked at her. He seemed to enjoy the trail his eyes took, from the top of her heavily-styled hair to the tips of her narrow-toed boots. “Oh? Then, why are you still here?”

 

“As I said, I am intervening on your behalf.” She looked around, her eyes lighting on a chair, kicked over, rather close to the table. She picked it up and set it up right, then straddled it. The look she gave him was placid, hiding everything churning within her.

 

He looked at her as if she were a snake. “I don’t...” he shook his head. His eyes crossed in a remarkable fashion before he got his equilibrium back. He reached for the half-empty glass on the table.

 

Her hand beat him to it. She put her palm over it. A simple gesture that he had to know well.

 

“Damn it,” he growled. “Move your damned hand.”

 

“You’ve had enough.”

 

“What do you know about it?” he suddenly shouted in her face. She held fast, glad that the rows of book cases were perfect sound proofing. “It’s never enough,” he whispered.

 

“I was there too,” Riza said quietly. “Remember?”

 

“Yes, I remember. You were one of those little grunts out there, following orders like a good little soldier. You didn’t have a choice. I did.”

 

She ignored that insult. “Did you?”

 

“I was a trained attack dog.  When I took this watch, I knew exactly what would be asked of me.”

 

“So?” She crossed her arms across the back of the chair, thanking all higher beings that she was able to respond to him the way he needed. This was not the plan at all, but he didn’t need to know that.

 

“Dammit, what are you doing here?” he asked her again, as if he were searching for an answer she wasn’t giving him.

 

“You’re on a destructive path of no return. You have to turn back before the one destroyed is you.”

 

He snorted derisively. “Better to destroy myself than those around me.”

 

Riza closed her eyes and counted to ten. “Look. I came here on a mission that was supposed to have some sort of amusement value for you. I find that this pity-party is in no way amusing.”

 

“Then leave,” he gritted. “And tell whoever sent you thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need... diversion.” He bent back to his card game, dealt a few cards, and then suddenly swept them off of the table. “I need release,” he said hoarsely, scrubbing a hand through his disheveled hair.

 

The glass bounced on the floor, spilling the fine golden liquid. Riza watched a splash land on the toe of her boot.

 

She’d held herself in check all day long. Knowing what she had to do, why she had to do it, and why she didn’t want to do it. All of it coiled tight inside of her. She’d kept her expression clear and normal in front of him all day long. She’d managed to make it home, change into this outrageous get-up, and come here, all to provide this self-pitying fool with... something... that would... she didn’t know what it would have done for him.

 

She did know what it would have done for her. And there was the reason for her reluctance, her tension, her utter distaste for the old charade and the new one.

 

She stood up. “You want release?” She said. “Fine. I want release too.”

 

He blinked up at her, eyes bleary, but just clear enough for him to see the ropes of tension within her finally breaking.

 

“You want to destroy yourself? All right, Colonel. Let's do it up right." She kicked the chair over, and moved around the table to lean into his face. He reared back slightly, shock warring with the beginning of fear. “I’ve made it my duty to help you in any way I could. I worked my way up the ranks of this army to do just that. I made that promise a long time ago, and I’m not going to back out on it now, even though you are making me so sick I want to vomit.”

 

He straightened in the chair, his mouth hanging open slightly. She most certainly had his attention now.

 

Well, good. Because she was tired, her feet hurt, the taste of cigarette was nasty on her tongue, and this wasn’t something she wanted to do in the first place. Not in this way anyway.

 

“I’m going to give you a choice. What you do with it is up to you.” She snapped the holster loose and drew the gun. He started and looked at her with no small amount of alarm. She held it up in the half-light and looked at him. For a second, she enjoyed the uneasy look he was giving her. Then she relented.

 

She simply snapped the safety off and placed the gun on the table.

 

Next to it, she placed a key. It felt heavier in her hand than the sidearm.

 

“I believe that, if you apply yourself, you will know what to do with both of these things. Both of them will give you release. Both of them will destroy who you are tonight. You choose which one you want to use. You have one hour.”

“You–,”

 

“One. Hour. I’ll let you know now that if you choose the first, I will be forced to make the most painful phone call I’ve ever had to make. If you choose the second...”  She couldn’t go on. He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what she was offering. Even drunk, the man’s mind had a clarity that was unparalleled. She inwardly snorted to herself.  Even in the privacy of this room, he had been playing a charade for an audience of negative one.

 

She spun on her heel and walked away from him, before he had a chance to respond to her. And before she had a chance to take it all back and retreat, like she wanted to, behind the security of their ranks and positions and everything else that stood between them.

 

Since that day, in Ishbal, when she put a sniper’s bullet right between the eyes of someone she didn’t know, she’d never retreated from a battle. She wasn’t about to now.

 

She knew this enemy. It had chased her ever since she set eyes on this man.

 

So she left, to hopefully lure it to another field of battle.


	6. Sometimes I'm Scared of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She'd given him a free ticket out of this world, then ran like a little coward. She hadn’t even the balls to watch him use it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: AU/Non Canon. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories. Nothing else related to any episode of any kind, except the usage of the character(s) in question, though some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”
> 
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale.

Games without Frontiers

Chapter 5. Sometimes I’m Scared of You

Rating: PG

Soundtrack: Sometimes – Britney Spears

 

She climbed into the car and waited until the door was shut before asking her driver the time. With the information, she began to tremble, slightly, gently, under the surface of her skin. Years of practice hardened her exterior; the only thing that cracked the surface was a polite smile for the young man driving her home.

She wanted to weep in frustration. That was impossible. She had no time to weep right now. Perhaps in an hour she could cry to her heart’s content.

She asked the driver to return to the hall and wait for... a half hour. By the time he returned to the Hall, that would be how much time would be left. If no one emerged, asking for a ride, then he was to go return the car and go home for the evening.  The driver solemnly nodded, as if he knew what was going on.

As she opened her door, she noticed something about the key in her hand. It was missing the key ring, the one she’d fashioned out an empty shell casing found in the town where everything had begun. She stopped for a moment, wondering where it had gotten to, when it dawned on her. She was holding the copy of the key, the one she was supposed to have given to him.

Well, she thought with a bitter twist to her lips, he’d have to be extremely drunk not to notice that.

Her home was supposed to be a sanctuary for her. Usually, when she entered, she shed all of the things she’d experienced at work and left them all on her door step. Neatness, calmness, tranquility surrounded her. Nice, neutral colors, minimal lighting. Supposed to calm, to project serenity.

It looked like a mausoleum at that moment. The only sign of life was Hayate, curled like a furry cannon ball, snuffling slightly in his sleep. He was still clutching the little scrap of lace she’d given him earlier. She didn’t feel like laughing, though. The clock was telling her that she had forty-three minutes left.

She was back in the shower, trying to remove the layers of smoke and sweat and dread that caked on her skin. Earlier, she rather thought she would be feeling a bit on the unclean side for having played such a role. Unclean didn’t begin to describe it. Sordid, corrupted, debased, did the list end? But... strangely enough, there was another feeling buried deep under all of that, even under the fear she was savagely kicking into the corner of her mind.

Anticipation. It tracked down her spine as she stepped from the water.

How long did she have?

The clock, of course, told her. She had twenty three minutes.

She’d always thought that when he died, it would be in battle, and she would be there to see it happen. But, she’d given him a free ticket out of this world, then ran like a little coward. She hadn’t even the balls to watch him use it.

She dried herself off with quick, jerky strokes, and then the layers went on. Underwear, tank top, pajama bottom, robe. Layers of soft cotton wrapping her in some semblance of comfort. Until the hour was over, this was all she was going to get.

Then her back started to itch again, a burning tingle right on the back of her left shoulder.  Her instinct made her reach up a hand to rub the spot; her knowledge made her snatch her hand away from the palm sized scar.

It only itched to remind her.

She decided to fix herself a cup of tea and wait the rest of it out. There was no sleep for her.

I shouldn’t have agreed to any of this. What had she been thinking? She had boundaries. And she knew that crossing them would have severe consequences. The stark whiteness of her kitchen hurt her eyes. She put the kettle on and turned the gas on high. She placed the cup and saucer out, and readied her tea pot.

A soft, tentative scratching sound caught her ear.  She looked over at her puppy; it hadn’t come from him.  And the sound was made by metal scraping metal.  She knew it.

A key turned in the lock. From the kitchen, it sounded like a sword leaving a scabbard. She froze.

The boot heels clicked across the hardwood floor, fast, hard, like bullets flying, so much so that she had the urge to duck and draw. Her shields instinctively went up.  That step was so sure, so confident.  Nothing like the shuffling slide she expected from one so drunk.

Then, suddenly, he stood in the doorway of her kitchen, bracing his arms against it for support.

“How dare you?” he growled.

It was like a blow to her stomach, leaving her breathless. But, she’d taken blows like that before and, before he was certainly ready she’d recovered.

_He was here._

“You left a suicidal man alone in a room with a loaded gun? Are you crazy?”

And, as usual, he’d given her exactly what she needed to when she needed to say it.

“Apparently you weren’t that suicidal.” Amazing, how calm she sounded.  “You’re here.”

She took her attention away from the tea pot long enough to look over at him. He was still standing there braced against the doorjamb, looking for all the word as if he were afraid to let go.

Of course he was. It wouldn’t do for him to fall on his face in the middle of such a dramatic moment.  She took in his full appearance with a quick slide of eyes from top to bottom, then back up to pause at the pulse doing double-time on the side of his throat.  Impeccable.  Back down her eyes went to her tea cup.

“Why don’t you go and have a seat,” she said. “I’ll fix you some tea so you can sober up some.” _Before you do what you came here to do._

Amazingly, he went and did as she told, quietly and without comment. She could watch him from the kitchen as he moved over to her couch with the slight stumble she expected and collapsed like a rag doll, overcoat and all.  She watched from her safe vantage point as he leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands and wondered what was going through his mind.

In fact, she wanted to desperately know what was going through his mind. Because he was here. She pulled another cup and saucer from the cabinet, just as the kettle began to scream for attention.

She took another look. This time, he was leaned back – sprawled, actually – over her couch, eyes closed, head flung back. Was he sleeping? No, there went his hand, raking itself through the tangled mess of his hair.

He was here.

It was an oddly therapeutic thing, to measure and pour, and mix and stir.

“Why...?”  His voice was faint, but in the stillness it was easy to hear the raw edge of it slicing across her nerves.  “Why did you give me a choice?”

It burst from her before she could catch it. “What was I supposed to do? Just leave you the gun and let you blow your brains out like I know you wished to do?  That’s not part of my job description, sir.”

_Other duties as assigned…_

“It would have been easier, you know.”

More silence.

She watched what happened next as if someone else were performing the action. The cup and saucer in her hands flew across the kitchen, in slow motion, smashed against the wall, and fell in pieces on her clean kitchen floor. Tea stained the wall, dripped down to make a little puddle there.

Hayate yipped slightly, then returned to his slumber.

Riza closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Entirely insufferable! A textbook definition.  A head of iron and brains to match.

She bent down to pick up the pieces of broken cup, still cursing him under her breath. All of her focus was on the man on the couch and how quickly she could do him the favor of putting him out of his misery herself, so when the sharp sting finally made it to her brain, she was left flat on her ass, staring in shock at her hand.

She dropped the shard of saucer and stared at the blood welling from her palm. She watched for as long as she could, for it seemed that her vision was suddenly getting more and more blurry by the second.

When the first tears fell, she had no idea what they were. Then the hot tracks burned her face and she was mortified. What was she crying for? It was just a little cut, wasn’t it? It didn’t even hurt that much. It couldn’t have had anything at all to do with the man on her couch and revelation that the man actually wanted to die, would have rather died than come to her house and take what she was offering.

“Shit!”

Arms suddenly wound their way around her, plucking pieces of cup and saucer out of her hands, cradling the wounded hand carefully.

“Riza, dammit, what... oh, no.” He was speaking softly into her hair, she could feel him rocking her slowly back and forth, and still it felt like it was happening to someone else. She couldn’t possibly be feeling the warmth of his body around her, couldn’t possibly smell the combination of cigar and cognac, sweat and him. She strained to hear what he was saying; it was hard because it was muffled by her hair and by the alcohol in his veins. But eventually, it finally formed an array that transmuted into something intelligible. And it told her everything.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

 

 


	7. And I Have Waited to be Given any Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Moment of Truth Has Arrived... Or has it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Synopsis: What people do on their own time is their own business, right? Especially when it involves a big bowl of steaming crack.
> 
> Author's Notes: AU/Non Canon. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories. Nothing else related to any episode of any kind, except the usage of the character(s) in question, though some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”
> 
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale. Check the current music for the song.

Games without Frontiers

Chapter 6: I Have Waited to be Given any Word

Rating: PG

Soundtrack: The Flat Earth – Thomas Dolby

 

 

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

Riza jerked out his grasp and stood. She scrambled up and reached in the cabinet for the first aid kit. The metal box made a satisfying sound as she slammed it on the counter. Then she tried, with little success, to get bandages and tape with only one hand. After a few minutes of fumbling and swearing to herself, she finally felt him reach around her.

“Let me.”

“No, I can–,”

“Riza. Let me do it.”

She held herself stiff as he plucked the items he needed from the box. Then she followed, mutinous, back to the kitchen table.

She sniffed, wiped at her face with the back of her hand and wanted to sink into the floor beneath her feet. She was mortified. The last time she’d cried like that, she’d been about twelve. This whole evening was the limit, she thought. If she showed her face at work again, it would be a lucky day for all of them. That was it. She would tender her resignation. Or ask for a transfer. To the north. She would get on her knees and beg General Armstrong for a…

“Stop thinking so loud,” he said. “I can hear the gears turning from over here.” As she scowled at him, he continued to quietly clean and bandage her hand, handling her as if she were fine china. “And no, I won’t accept your resignation. And no, I won’t give you a transfer.”

She glared at the top of his head.

After he finished, he spent a moment examining his handiwork. He ignored her when she tugged on her hand, refusing to relinquish his hold.

Riza made herself inhale and exhale in the proper manner. Someone had told her that the more she visualized something, the more likely she was to get what she desired. She wanted to kick that someone. Because this was nothing like what she visualized.

Finally, he looked up at her, almost forcing her to meet his gaze. “May I use your phone? I have some arrangements to make.”

She managed to free her hand and stood up. “Yes, of course. I could give you the number of my driver, the one I used tonight–,”

“Oh, I’m not leaving,” he said softly. “Not tonight.”

Riza paled, then flushed. He’d made that sound like a threat.

Roy turned in the doorway. “Unless you want me to?”

Now _that_ was a dare. Again, her tongue chose that moment to get a mind of its own. “No.” She felt her cheeks growing hotter by the second. “I mean –,”

He smiled slowly in response and continued into the living room.

While she gathered the tattered remains of her dignity – as well as the shattered ceramic – she listened to him on the phone. Of course, she could barely hear a word he was saying, but she supposed he had some lackey in his employ, someone who took care of him when he found himself in a compromising situation. It was the only way to explain how he managed to make it into work properly dressed when she knew without a doubt that he had not spent the night at home.

And, tonight, she was going to be his ‘compromising situation’.  No waltzing around it.  She’d thrown down the ignition glove and he picked it up.

She slammed the first aid kit back into the cabinet, hoping the noise would jolt her back to reality. No such luck. He was still in the living room.

But, she wasn’t as flame retardant as one would expect of the Shield of the Flame Alchemist.

Roy Mustang was standing in her living room, with every intention of staying the night. And she told him it was all right. Better still, she’d given him a key to her house and invited him in.

She certainly hoped that they spelled her name right on that plaque for her own personal suite in hell.

“Don’t come for... oh, two hours,” she heard as she moved into the living room. There was a pause. “Don’t be stupid.  Not what you think at all.  I’m warning you. You come any earlier and the only way they’ll identify you is with your dental records.” He looked over when she stepped into his field of vision, held up a hand. “Fine. It’s your funeral. Hopefully, someone will be happy to identify the charred remains as yours.” He hung up, then shoved his hands in his pockets. She watched as he actually shuffled his feet nervously for a second. At a loss for words? Him?

“Could I... impose on you a second time?”

Riza arched an eyebrow. “How?”

“Well. It just occurred to me that I’m not very... appetizing company right now. Might I... um...”

“Just spit it out, Colonel.”

He blinked at her and tilted his head. “Use your shower.”

She took him in, from head to foot again.  Now that her vision was clearer, she noticed that he wasn’t quite as impeccable as she’d thought.  His boots were slightly scuffed, as if he’d walked through mud puddles all the way here. His trousers, slightly wrinkled, the collar of the white button down shirt mussed had a healthy splash of cognac on one side. The only thing on him that looked impeccable was the jacket. A mask, a charade.  With the shadow of a beard along his jaw line and the hair – she had to agree he was less than appetizing. He looked like a stay desperately in need of a home. The vision gave her a jolt of confidence. “This way,” she murmured while it lasted and padded back to her bedroom, not looking to see if he would follow.

Handing him a towel, she pointed the way to the bathroom, and waited until he shut the door behind him.

Quickly she took in the condition of her bedroom. That pile of things from the box was still in the middle of her bed. That went swiftly back into the box, and the box went under the bed.

It was when she bent over that she noticed that one of the straps on her tank top was covered with little splotches of blood from her injured hand, and there were little spots on her bottoms as well. She listened for a moment; the water was still running in the shower. She spun around and rummaged in her drawer for a new top and bottoms, praying he would stay in there until she changed.

She managed the bottoms, hopping on one foot to the rhythm of her prayer – _stay in the shower, stay in the shower, because I’m not ready_ – and had whipped off her tank top. She’d balled up the new top and was about to slip it over her head.

“Uh...”

She froze, her back to him. Her head whipped around, and she took in the sight before her. She felt like a cat doused with water from on high.

She was a military woman. She’d been in barracks before, had seen many a man wandering around in nothing but a towel, had even been ‘one of the guys’, and ducked wisecracks swathed in a towel of her own. And had thought nothing of it.  Hell, once, what seemed like very long ago, this man had seen her bare back.

But now?  She took in the sight of the Colonel standing there in nothing but steam and a towel and could think nothing at all.

And it was a quick as that. There was no more time to think of how she’d gotten here, and what had happened before because he was moving toward her and she couldn’t even get the shirt over her head in time... She turned away from him just as he reached out and brushed her hair away from her back.

He leaned down; she closed her eyes.

He whispered into her ear, “Are you sure you want to give me this choice? Once we go... there... things will be changed.”

She swallowed. “I recall mentioning that before,” she said, her voice reed thin.

“And?”

“And... you’re here.”

“So I am,” he breathed against her neck. Every nerve in her body started to vibrate at once. That was a new sensation for her; and it was that which reminded her.

“Wait.”

He froze instantly, as if he’d been waiting for her to beg off. She felt a cold rush of air as he stepped away from her. “No,” she said quickly. “I mean, um, I need to tell you something before...”

He took her by the shoulders and turned her slowly. She clutched the tank to her front, covering whatever she could and looked up at him. Now she knew what a target felt like whenever she took aim and sympathized. “What?” He asked.

She took a step backward, to give her some distance and breathing space. “Ah...” she cleared her throat, wondering where the hell Riza had gone and who had replaced her with this quivering, silly little girl standing there in her skin, using her voice, looking out of her eyes.

“What, Riza?” He looked at her cautiously, not moving, still clutching the towel around his waist.

“It’s just that... I mean...”

“To use your own phrase, just spit it out.”

“I’ve never... damn!” She hadn’t thought it would be this difficult.

“You’ve never what?”  He certainly looked confused. 

She wasn’t buying it, and she didn’t appreciate him playing dumb. “Don’t be obtuse. You know what I’ve never. Think about it.” There. She didn’t actually have to say the words, and yet she got her point across. She hoped.

She thought his jaw would completely unhinge. “What do you mean you’ve never? You’ve never...this?”

She nodded, simply refusing to say the simple words. He was so smart. Let him figure it out.

He sat down on the bed. The towel opened slightly; Riza slammed her eyes toward his face. “I don’t believe you. You have never...had sex?”

Good. He said it. Now she really didn’t need to. She just nodded again.

“Come on, Riza! You’re a military woman!”

“I may be. But, I am who I am,” She turned away from him and slipped the tank over her head, feeling slightly stupid standing there talking to him half dressed. “Think about it, Mustang. Do you know anyone who would want to... do that... with me?”

He actually pondered it. Then, without explanation, his expression darkened. “I’d better not know anyone who would want to,” he muttered under his breath.

She rocked back on her heels, certain she hadn’t heard that right. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” He raked a hand through his hair again. “So... you’re a virgin.” He shook his head with a slow grin. “It fits, you know. Cold-as-steel-Riza Hawkeye. A virgin.”

“You don’t have to make it sound so… you know.”

He was starting to chuckle. “Oh, but it is _. You know_.” Now he was full on laughing. “You. A virgin. Oh, dear...” he sputtered.

“Okay,” Riza snapped, heading for the door, “if you’re just going to laugh about it, we don’t need to continue this conversation at all.” She didn’t even make it two steps before his hand captured her arm.

“Wait. I’m sorry.” He sputtered a few more moments before straightening up. “I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just. What possessed you to do all of this then?”

That she still couldn’t answer, not even to herself.

And, at that moment, she didn’t have to. There was a knock on her door. She looked toward it, then looked at him, at a loss.

He didn’t seem to have the same problem. Eyes narrowed, he put a finger to his lips and moved toward the door.

Riza sat on the bed, glad for the small reprieve, although a bit worried by who could be at her door at this hour of the evening. She concentrated on the day that had gone by, tried to regain her center, which made her take such crazy circumstances with a grain of salt.

It was hard to do with vision of Roy Mustang in her bedroom in a towel. This was what she’d feared all day. That proceeding with this plan would make her say and do things that would change her forever. That would make her say and do things that were not in keeping with who she was.

That would make her say and do things that she’d always wanted to say and do, that little voice whispered at her again.

Just one night of moonlight…

 

 


	8. Just One Night of Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interesting, what one night of moonlight can accomplish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: AU/Non Canon. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories. Nothing else related to any episode of any kind, except the usage of the character(s) in question, though some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”
> 
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale. Check the current music for the song.

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 7: Just One Night of Moonlight**

**Rating: M**

**Soundtrack: You’re Making Me High – Toni Braxton**

 

She heard Mustang’s voice raise and tuned in to what was happening in her own living room.

“I told you to wait two hours.”

“I know, I know, but, I wanted to... nice digs, Colonel. Is it that little beauty I saw at the party tonight?  Didn’t know she was military.”

Riza closed her eyes. _It was Havoc. Mustang had called Havoc. Idiot.  Colonel of idiots.  Fuhrer of idiots. Damn him._ It was a good thing that Havoc had never been to her home, a grand thing that she kept her private life virtually private from her other comrades.

“What little beauty?” There was a warning in Mustang’s voice that apparently Havoc did not hear.

“That frosty little thing we saw back at the Ball. Breda was positive it was the First Lieutenant.”

“The First Lieutenant? Not likely.” Mustang lied successfully, even laughing as if the idea were insane.

“I know. I told Breda he was cracked. So... did I interrupt anything?”

“Enough. Now thanks and good night.”

“But wait–,”

“Barbeque, Havoc.”

“If things don’t go well--,”

“Your ass.  Main dish.”

Riza heard the door slam and hoped it crammed that cigarette directly up his nosey nose.

Mustang came back into the room.

“You called Jean Havoc of all people?” Riza said, not quite yelling.

Mustang shrugged. “He’s who I usually call in these circumstances.  He’s discreet.  If you recall, I wasn’t exactly clear in thought.”

“But didn’t you think...no, of course you didn’t think. What if he had seen me? What if he’d gotten past the door and seen Black Hayate… oh, this isn’t going to work. We can’t do this. What if someone finds out–humph!”

She was powerless under the assault of his lips. So, she stood there hands at her sides, thinking about the feeling of this man’s lips on hers and how could he be holding her by the arms if he was still wearing a towel and…

_Oh, my._

“You’re thinking way too loud again,” Mustang said, breathlessly. “And now, you have me at a disadvantage.”

She kept her eyes closed.

“Riza.”

She thought about... _laundry. Socks. Yes, that was good. Socks and laundry._

“Riza.”

_She had to do laundry tomorrow night, because yes, her hamper was quite full._

“Lieutenant!”

Okay, that was unfair. Her eyes popped open on their own, and her hand made it halfway to her forehead, and she took in the sight before her. She thought her eyes would actually leave their sockets.

“You were the one who asked me to come here,” he told her.

Once simple sentence that she could not argue with. She looked at him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. And all at once she wondered what the hell she was being such a silly little girl about.

This was what she wanted. This is what she got. And this would be what she would take.

She supposed she’d been thinking loudly again, because she saw him reading her very thoughts. That slow smile was back and he was moving.

Those lips were back on her mouth, without any preamble. She supposed that would be alright, considering all the trouble that had been caused by the previous chit chat.

She was being pushed back toward the bed and she felt hot, as if simple contact with his skin was enough to ignite.

His lips trailed across her neck, over her shoulder. And hand was pushing the tank up, over, and off. Just like that. He was a magician. Those lips were magic too, trailing over her skin like that, leaving heat everywhere they touched.

Flame Alchemist indeed.

He’d reached the waist band of her pajamas, now, and had stopped. Riza wondered why it was getting so difficult to take a breath, and then his fingers hooked themselves in her pants and pulled, and oh, dear, sweet, ever-loving....

He chuckled. “Ever practical Hawkeye.

”She looked down, then blushed, because she was wearing those terribly practical panties. “Um...they’re...”

“Perfect. It wouldn’t be you otherwise.”

And he made short work of them. Riza contemplated the ceiling. No wonder he was popular with all of the women in Eastern. And Central. And Northern. And possibly Amestris.

She looked around and saw nothing until she looked down.  She was lying flat on the bed, her knees bent and legs hanging over the edge, toes about two inches from the floor. And he was just kneeling there, looking wicked, and – “Wh-what are you doing?”

Mustang halted, looked up at her. “Just relax. Trust me.”

_Oh, no he wasn’t. No he couldn’t. He wouldn’t._

His tongue touched her and her legs snapped shut right around his head.

It took a moment, but she heard his frantic mumbles of “I can’t breathe!” and opened her legs again, looking down with wide eyes.

Mustang shook his head, and his eyes uncrossed. “Really. You have to trust me. You _will_ like this.”

She lay back again and kept her gaze riveted to the ceiling and every other sense to the man who was doing those... things with his tongue and... her hips bucked the next time he touched her, but she managed to keep her legs from shutting again.  She supposed he needed oxygen to get this done after all.

She tried to relax and trust him, but again and again a wave of something crested through her and she couldn’t help but move, half of her trying to get away, half of her trying to pulling him closer. Her hand fisted in his hair and pulled, her foot planted itself on his shoulder and pushed. She heard that soft chuckle again and thought it quite unfair that he could actually laugh at a time like this, because, dammit, she could barely get her own share of air into her lungs.  That’s what he was doing, stealing all of the oxygen in the air for himself.

His mouth left her and she heard herself moan in protest, but then felt him slide up her body and his mouth attacked hers again. This time she opened up and let him explore her mouth with that same tongue that had just tortured her. His own moan resonated down her throat and ended right where he’d just left.

_Fast, so fast_ , she thought. _She hadn’t pictured it happening so fast. Hell, she hadn’t a picture for it at all. But he was there, right there, and he was about to, and –_

“Ow!” Riza twisted the lower half of her body, feeling once again like a doused cat. “That’s quite enough of that!”

He grabbed her hips with hands like iron bands and held on tight. “Trust me,” he moaned into her neck, a pleading note to his voice she’d never heard before.

“It hurts, damn you.”

“Only for a minute or two.”

“You should have warned me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good–oh, ow!” She clubbed him on the side of his head with her fist.

“Hey!” He levered up on his arms and stared down at her, eyes wild, still buried deep inside of her. “That. Hurts.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“It’s going to hurt, Riza,” he gritted out. “You are a virgin.”

“Nobody told me it was supposed to hurt.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“Well, it’s a bit late. Get out of there.”

Mustang looked at her as if she’d grown an extra head. “Are you crazy?”

“No. It hurts and I want you out.”

“As you wish.” He moved. Just a little.

Riza blinked.

He froze. “You still want me out?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He moved. A little more this time, sliding almost all the way out.

Riza moaned.

There was a little quirk at the side of his lip. “You still want me out?”

“Yes,” she said stubbornly between her teeth. “ _That_ was an anomaly.”

“An anomaly.” He shook his head. “Only you would use such a word at a time like this. Okay, tell me about this.” He pulled out again; this time sliding in as smooth as silk. “Now do you want me...out?”

Riza was silent.

“Riza?”

She stared at the ceiling, wondering where her brain had just gone.

“Was that an anomaly?”

She looked at him, her eyes clear and calm. “I’m not sure. Do that again.”

He did.

Her eyes rolled back and her legs twined themselves around his thighs. “Definitely not an anomaly, Colonel.  As you were.”

 

 


	9. To Find Some Way to Stand Beside You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game has changed. Now Roy has to rearrange the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: AU/Non Canon. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories. Nothing else related to any episode of any kind, except the usage of the character(s) in question, though some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”
> 
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale. Check the current music for the song.

Games without Frontiers

Chapter 8: To Find Some Way to Stand Beside You

Rating: M

Soundtrack: Lonely No More – Rob Thomas

 

 

Roy woke up all at once. Not from the nightmare that usually drove him from his bed, panting and sweating. It was the sensation that he was in a strange place, in a strange bed, which drove him from sleep. He was breathless, but that wasn’t from the fear that usually chased him into the waking world.

It was because of the lips that were slowly, curiously trailing all over his skin. Little, tiny kisses, experimental nips, lighting in random spots, that sent little shivers telegraphing through him. He raised his head just enough to look. So, it hadn’t been a dream, or some drunken fantasy played out in that old, dark library.

She was really there. Or rather, he was really here.

He dropped his eyes to half-mast, so she wouldn’t realize he was completely awake. Because he didn’t want to startle her, send her back behind that wall she’d built for herself. He wanted to see how far she would go with this exploration.

She was sitting beside him, her body limned in shadow. Her hands would touch a spot on his body – picking out scars, he realized – then her lips would descend, tracing the lines gently, softly.

And it was driving him completely, utterly, mind-melting mad. His brain was starting to misfire on all levels, the closer she got to his second brain, and she was moving with all of her usual determination toward that one spot that was the most important spot to any male in the entire world.

 _Please hurry up, please hurry up_ , he started to chant to himself, because he wasn’t sure he could stay still for very much longer.

She sat up and stared at him for so long he thought he would die. What the hell was she doing already? Working out an attack plan?

Riza ( _Riza_ , his brain said in wonder) reached out a hand. Roy closed his eyes, praying that she would stop the torture. He felt her fingers touch him, encircle him cautiously, tighten hesitantly. Unbidden, a groan escaped his lips, and her hand was snatched away.

“No...” he moaned at the release, then cleared his throat, trying for a little of sanity. “Go ahead. Touch me. Please.” He hadn’t really meant for that last to sound so desperate, but dammit, he _was_ desperate.

Normally, he would spend his time with a woman on his terms. Dinner, drinks, whatever he decided would make a good preamble, then straight to someplace discreet. He would do what he wanted to the woman, make her scream, claw, whatever he could do, then he would leave. Maybe he would call her back, maybe he wouldn’t.

As the trembling hand circled him again, he thought that perhaps he would be happy never to leave this bed again. He could do his paperwork from here, take phone calls from here, and perform all of his usual tasks from here.

“Soft...” he heard her say, slowly. “And... hard.” He watched her turn her head and look at him, and gave up any pretense of being half-asleep. He had no reply for her. Could just lay there and stare at her and hope that she knew what she was doing. Because anything connected with his cock had to be handled with great care and much delicacy.

She ran her hand up and down his length so slow. Too slow. Exploring, experimenting. And he had to lay there and be patient because this was Riza, his Riza, and he couldn’t mess this up by being a clod. The girl had risked too much to have him do something stupid. Even though he wanted to scream at her to hurry up already and get him off.

No. He didn’t want her to just get him off. He wanted her to (his mind actually cringed) make love to him. He just wanted her to hurry up and get to it, before his head exploded.

“I’ve heard that putting that in my mouth would be a good thing to do for you,” she suddenly said.

 _Hell yes, it would be a good thing for me! Very good, yes indeedy._ His mind was a gibbering mess.  _Please, miss, may I have some more?_ “Only...only if you want to....” _What? What had he just said?_

“I’m not sure the whole thing will fit.”

_God._

“I assure you, that feat has been accomplished.”

He saw the doubt on her face even in the half-darkness. But she still turned back to him and lowered her head. Her lips surrounded him in soft warmth and he wanted to die. No, he didn’t want to die, he wanted to live forever, and just lie there and experience this sensation over and over again. His joy was short-lived. As soon as he touched the back of her throat, it was over.

She scrambled away from him as if he’d bitten her.

“Perhaps...not,” he said carefully wincing as he envisioned the rest of his evening, and much of the next day, spent in total blue-balled agony.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t....” he started to sit up, when she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back down. He watched her, wondering what could possibly be going through the complicated head of hers. She sat up and swung a leg over him, straddling him. Before this was over, he thought, he was going to have a heart attack. Or an aneurysm.  Or a heart attack/aneurysm double team. “Riza…”

“Hush. Just let me....”

“Oh, God.” Second time he’d called for the Unbelievable.  Maybe he’d been wrong all this time and there was a God somewhere that smiled on him.

“Yes? That’s right?” She whispered as she took his length, positioned it just right and slowly slid over him. Her head fell back slowly and she hissed.

He reached up and grasped her hips, hoping that hadn’t been a hiss of pain. He didn't think he could stand another eviction speech. There was no way she knew what to do next, so he guided her, slowly at first, until she got the rhythm, then with increasing speed, until he could finally let go and grasp handfuls of the sheet in both fists and hang on for dear life.

She braced her hands in the middle of his chest and moved, wrapping around him like a warm summer day. All of his feeling centered on his dick and how nice and warm it felt inside of her. Up and down and again and again and he could feel his head thrashing and it wasn’t going to last long he knew this, and he grasped her hips again and held her down tight as he came, arched tight and twisting, taking her with him with a long, low growl.

She collapsed across him and he held her there, running a hand negligently down the long line of her back, stopping at each little patch of scar with a tinge of remembrance. Again he wondered how it was that he was in this situation.

She had certainly given him no indication that she’d even had an interest in him beyond the professional. Not crisp and cold little Riza, a proper First Lieutenant in all ways. What had convinced her to finally make this wild play? And exactly who had told her that he’d been in that library, drinking his brains out, and wishing he were dead. Again.

He could only think of a few people who knew him well enough, and one of them was in his arms at that very moment. The other one... well, he wouldn’t have done such a thing. Would he?

“Riza,” he said, still hoarse.

She lifted her head and looked at him.

“Who sent you to me?”

She lowered her head back into the crook of his neck. “Circumstances sent me,” she mumbled from that safe spot.

Damn. If she promised not to tell, then it would take more than just a question from him to get it out of her.

“This is not a safe thing that we do,” she said, and squirmed.

He let her go and she rolled over to the side, to lay on the bed next to him. She had curves. Genuine curves. “No it’s not,” he said, “It goes against more regulations than even I know about. Actually, it only goes against one major regulation. Primarily, fraternization between a superior and his or her subordinate.”

He could hear the gears in her mind again.  “That’s a major regulation.”

“Punishable by anything from strong censure to court-martial and dishonorable discharge.”

Dishonorable discharge. That would destroy any chance of achieving his ambition. “You could lose your status as a State Alchemist.”

And he would lose his watch. And with that, just about everything. Well, perhaps not everything. “But if no one were to find out...”

“Someone is bound to find out,” she said simply.

Ever sensible Hawkeye. He knew she would rear her proper little head sooner or later. He sat up against her headboard. “Okay, so someone is bound to find out. Who? I'm not planning on babbling to the whole world about this.”

She looked at him. He could see the list of his conquests in her brain; the ones he'd come bouncing into the office to brag about at the top of his lungs.

"Well. I'm not. Anyway, who could possibly find out?"

“Havoc came damn close. Thanks to you.”

“You’re going to rub that in aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.  It was stupid.”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“Obviously.”

“Riza.”

“What?” She sat up and pulled the sheet around her. No, he thought, don’t hide from me. “This entire...plan was stupid. We could lose everything if someone finds out. You could never move further up the ranks to reach what you want, to do what you want.”

“You keep saying if someone finds out,” he said, cutting through her speech, suddenly inspired. “But... what if the _right_ someone finds out?”

She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“I am surrounded by loyal people, Riza. You included.”

She rolled her eyes.

“No, listen to me. If I told any of them to keep their mouths shut they would. You know they would. The last thing they would want would be my downfall, because then where would they be?”

“Somewhere else,” she muttered.

He pretended not to hear her pessimism. “If one of them found out, and we had an extra person running interference, it might just work.”

She was staring at him with that look. That look that told him he’d just said something supremely stupid and he should just go soak his head. He hadn’t realized how sexy it would look coming from her while she was clothed in nothing but a rumpled sheet, with her hair a shambles and her face softened from hot, earth quaking sex.

“And if it doesn’t work?”

He heard what she was asking. She was doing that loud thinking again. Are you willing to risk everything that much just for me to stay in your bed, she was thinking. I can’t be worth that much risk. He heard it as if she shouted it in his face.

But, he realized, she was worth that much risk. Anyone who would take everything that she was inside and toss it over just to save his life – because that is exactly what she had done – was worth that much risk. She would never know how close he came to using that gun.

He’d picked it up. Ran his fingers over the cold, silvery gunmetal.  He could feel the bullet waiting in the chamber, just like he could see the oxygen in the air around him.  He even spent precious moments deciding whether it would go in his mouth, his chin or his temple.

Then the thought powered through his brain like a freight engine.  I don’t want to have to pay for this.

Then he was here.

But, now was not the time to dwell on such things. Now was the time to convince her that she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. Because that was the other thing she was thinking, what was sitting behind her eyes waiting to strike.

His eyes darted to the window as he caught the first faint light of sunrise. Damn. There was no more time to talk right this moment.

She followed his gaze, then sighed. “We have work.”

“Yes. Work.”

She stared at him, unable to fathom what else to say. He hated the look, but he knew if they failed to show up on time, there would be hell to pay and much to explain.

“All right. This is not over. I’m not going to leave it like this.” He announced.

”She tilted a look on him. “Why? Why can’t you just treat me like those other women, and just forget this happened?”

Because. “Are you crazy?” he asked her again. “No, scratch that. You are crazy. I can’t do that!”

“Why?”

“Because...because it’s _you_.”

She blushed. Actually blushed. “I think you’re crazy.”

“I’m aware of that,” he said with a smile.

He saw her relent then, and give him a keen look. “Fine. You use your brilliant State Alchemist’s mind to figure a way to make this work. You have a week.”

He blinked, not sure he heard her right. “What?”

“You have seven days to figure out how this,” she waved her hands expansively, “is going to work.”

“You’re giving me a time limit?”

“Of course. We can’t let this thing drag on forever. If you can’t figure it out in a week, we forget all about it and continue on as we have before.”

The little bitch. He grinned, even as he swung out of the bed. There was his Hawkeye.  She knew exactly what she was doing, throwing down the gauntlet like that. There was no way he was going to fail now, not now that she had challenged him. He scooped up the towel from the floor and wrapped it around his waist, smiling at her the whole time. “You’re on, Lieutenant,” he said. “Now. How would it look if you – the great Riza Hawkeye – were late for work?”

She stared, mouth agape.

“It wouldn’t look good on your record if you were late for work. I would hate to have to... discipline you for gross dereliction of duty.” He bowed and gestured toward the bathroom.

She threw a pillow in his face and called him something she would never dare call him during the progress of her duty.

She knew him so well.


	10. You Get Too Much You Get Too High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is like oxygen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: AU/Non Canon. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories. Nothing else related to any episode of any kind, except the usage of the character(s) in question, though some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”
> 
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale. Check the current music for the song.

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 9. You Get Too Much You Get Too High**

**Rating: PG**

**Soundtrack: Love is Like Oxygen – The Sweet**

 

When he emerged from the shower, he found he was alone. Well, not entirely alone. A furry black and grey tank met him in the middle of the bedroom, wagging that tail of his and trailing something black in his jaws. Roy smiled; truly dogs were the most uncomplicated creatures in the world. “Loyal canine, how we salute thee,” he sang softly and the dog yipped in response.

He bent down and plucked the piece of black scrap from Black Hayate’s mouth, curious. Holding it up, he began to laugh. Never in a thousand years would he picture Riza wearing such a thing... but then the idea of her wearing it was doing things to him that he’d better halt if he intended to get to work in any kind of professional state. He could contemplate the vision of her in scandalous things some other time.

Like this evening.

A uniform was spread out on the bed, which had been tidily made. Roy shook his head. How contentious. He hadn’t been in the shower that long, had he? He shrugged and smiled again, wondering if this smiling thing would become a habit. Something glinted golden on the top of his uniform; he frowned and took a closer look. It was key. Not the key that he’d used the night before, but a copy, shining and brand new. That was going to take some explanation; she’d actually had a key made for him?

Again he was floored by the circumstances leading to this. And truly perplexed by who could be behind this besides Riza. Because he knew she couldn’t have done this all on her own. Yes, she was capable, but it had definitely taken some pushing on someone else’s part to get her to make such a move. He had an idea of who it was, but without her confirmation, he wasn’t going to ask any questions on his own.

She was right. This was a dangerous game to be playing at this delicate time. If the wrong person were to discover that they had spent even one night together, their heads would roll and not in a pretty way. He might even end up in prison, to keep him from using his alchemical skills for some other purpose than what the army needed him for. He’d heard plenty about the prisons in Central. The idea of spending even five minutes in one was not something he wanted to contemplate. Not on a day like today.

Dressed and ready for work, and feeling absolutely no pain, he wondered how he was supposed to get there. For some stupid reason, it was against regulations for him to actually use foot power to get to his own office, which required that he call for a driver. But who could he call?

She would kill him, but he had to. There was no one else he would trust to come here and not ask any more questions than those that would satisfy his prurient interests.

But, again, she surprised him. In the living room, quietly waiting, was the young man who’d driven him to her house last night. He’d obviously been sitting there some time, probably before Riza had left. He must have taken far more time in the shower than he thought. Roy looked at the time and almost had a seizure. He was going to be obscenely late! And, dammit, Riza was going to give him that look again, and then he was going to picture her doing it in nothing but a sheet and...

“Are you ready, sir?” The young lad stood up and saluted. Roy took him in and discovered he had no idea who the young soldier was. Before he could ask the obvious question, the man said, “I was hired by the person who assisted the First Lieutenant last night. I’ll be here to help with anything you might need in relation to this... um... situation.”

“Really?” Roy was intrigued. “And who hired you... Sergeant?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not at liberty to divulge that information.”

Damn it all to hell. “So, how long are you in their employ?”

“As long as necessary. Now, I do believe, sir, that you will be late if we don’t leave now.”

Grumbling, he followed the Sergeant to the car, this time a regulation black car. When he gotten into the car, and was on his way, he asked another question. “Why all the intrigue?”

“Permission to speak freely?”

“Of course.”

“Sir, your situation is very delicate. While it is true that there are many relationships such as this one going on among the ranks, if anyone were to find out about you and the First Lieutenant–,”

“Yes, I know. Court-martial and all that.”

“Yes, sir. My Commanding Officer thinks that you, personally, will benefit from this relationship. My CO always has the best interests in mind.”

Well, that gave him a big hint on who it might be.  “And Riza? What about her best interests?”

“I believe she was... reluctant at first. Because of the possible consequences of course. But, she was convinced that it could be carried out. However, she knows nothing of the rest of this.”

Roy looked at the back of the driver’s head. “You mean, she doesn’t know you’re still around?”

“No, sir. I arrived after she left. I’m sure it’s intended that she find out, but no, as of this moment, she doesn’t know I’m still here to assist you two in any way that I can.”

Roy crossed his arms. “And how are you supposed to assist us?”

“I’ve been transferred to be your personal driver.  It was a… disciplinary measure.” The Sergeant smirked, giving lie to that statement. “I am supposed to take you anywhere you need to go and I’ve been ordered to ask no questions. I am to obtain anything you need in the pursuit of this relationship.”

“This is a complicated job you have, Sergeant. I know of few people who could assign such a complicate job to anyone they wanted.” And a few had just moved higher on his list of suspects. Meddling bastards, all of them.

The young man shrugged. “It pays well.”

“I suppose it does. What's the incentive for you? How do I know you won’t tell, say, the Fuhrer, for example?  How do I know someone close to him didn’t do this to set me up?”

“That’s an interesting conclusion, sir. I was told that you could be very astute and to watch for that.” The young man thought for a moment.  “Sir, as I said, my job pays well. If I were sent by the Fuhrer, and I set you up, I know my life would be forfeit for even being involved in such a conspiracy.  I’m not stupid.  I like my life.”  He chuckled.  “And no, the Fuhrer did not send me.  Take him off your list.”

 “Indeed.” Roy looked out of the window just as they pulled into the Eastern headquarters. “Well...I’d say thank your employer for me. By the way, what is your name? I’d hate to keep calling you Sergeant if we’re supposed to be so close.”

“Carey Dennison, sir. Can I say something else, sir?”

“Go ahead.”

“It would be a good idea to confide in someone else within your office.”

“Just as I said!” Roy clapped his hands together. “But...who?”

“Someone you trust to keep your secret under any circumstance. It will be difficult to keep everyone within your circle from knowing eventually. It might be better if you have at least one ally here from the beginning. Aside from me, of course.”

“You are a smart young man!”

“Just passing on advice from my CO, sir. Are there any orders for me for the rest of the day?”

“Not this moment, no.”

“Well, here is my contact information.” Sergeant Dennison handed over a small card. “Any time you need me, just call.”

“Oh, I will.”

The man saluted and left him at the front door of his office. He looked at the doors and felt briefly like the first time he’d entered these halls. Nervous. Excited.

He blinked. She had been right. Whatever he’d been like before last night was gone. Destroyed. That darkness that always hovered in the back of his mind was receding slowly. It wasn’t quite gone – he doubted it would ever be gone – but it wasn’t waiting impatiently to hit him with both fists and feet.

He rocked back on his, grinning expansively. Pushing open the doors, he entered as his usual, over the top self.

“Good morning!” he said breezily, completely ignoring the fact that he was almost an hour late. His staff scrambled up to salute, as usual, including his First Lieutenant. And, true to form, she was giving him the most disapproving look she could muster for his tardiness.

“Have a good evening, Colonel?” Havoc asked him, leaning against a table.

“You know, Havoc, I would say that I did.” He moved to his desk, examining the pile of folders sitting there waiting for him. He wondered briefly how many he could get back into that bottom drawer before Riza saw him. Probably a quarter.  And how did those folders get there?  Last he remembered, he’d shoved them on top of the archive file cabinet.

He looked over at his First Lieutenant. After letting him know that his tardiness was unacceptable, she gave him no further notice. Her hair was back into that severe little twist she favored. His hands actually itched to pull that clip and see it spread over her shoulders again. He sat down quickly, to hide the evidence of what that thought had done. Damn, this was going to be hard. And so was he.  All damned day.

“So you enjoyed the party last night, sir?” Fuery asked him.

“Oh, I don’t remember much about the party–,”

“But I’m sure you remember after,” Havoc said around his cigarette.

Roy gave him a cocky grin. “Indeed I do. A most...interesting evening.”

“Will you be seeing her again?”

Roy leaned back and willed himself not to look over at the desk across from him. “Oh, I plan to.” He decided to sweeten the story, make it more interesting. His mind travelled into story land, mixing up a tale that Riza would have found unbelievably preposterous.

“So, no chance in getting her number, huh?”

“Over my dead body,” Roy said quite cheerily.

“That good, hmm?”

“That good.”

Another pile of folders slammed on his desk. “A lot of work to finish, Colonel,” the First Lieutenant muttered.

He grimaced as the pile just grew to twice its size. He would be there for hours going over this. “Ah, thank you, First Lieutenant.” He knew he promised he wouldn’t brag, but if he didn’t, it would cause a bit of comment – especially from Havoc.

“My pleasure, Colonel.” She didn’t even look up from sorting papers.

The phone rang. Happy for the temporary reprieve, he answered. “Mustang.”

It was Hughes. Roy winced, got halfway through hello before Maes began to expound on the singing talents of his daughter.

“I’m serious! I want to let you hear it. She’s genius! And she’s only three! How should I say this¼ an angel’s voice? There’s ninety percent chance she’ll become a diva!”

“Lieutenant Colonel, I’m working right now.”

“What? What a coincidence! I’m working too.

”Roy sighed. “Really¼ is there no alchemy technique to burn a person through a phone?” he said, half to himself.

“You sure ask scary questions, Flame Alchemist. That aside, I have to tell you...” and Hughes’ voice dropped from his usually loopy wheedle to his all about business voice.  “There was a fire at the Library last night.”

Roy sat straight up, frowning. “What? The Library? What happened?”

“We’re sure that Scar was involved in it. Witnesses saw him. But having look at the scene, we highly doubt that he did all of that himself. There are some clues indicating that he fought someone.”

“What about Ed and...?”  He’d sent Fullmetal to Central to allow them to research on their personal project.  Their reward for a job well done in Lior.

“Oh, they were fine... not even close.”

“Any news on Scar?”

Hughes told him some about the scene. What he heard worried him. They’d found Scar’s clothes, covered in blood, but no Scar.

“I’m sure you’re on top of this,” he said, becoming more agitated. The Library, destroyed! The amount of work that had been stored there was monumental.

“Of course. Something else, though,” now Maes’ voice dropped to a conspiratorial level. “There is a rumor going around that you’ll be transferred back here because of Brigadier General Gran’s death.”

_What did that have to do with this?_

“And... There are even those who say that _you_ are behind all of this mess over here.”

Ah. Roy snorted. _He was otherwise occupied last night_ , he thought with an inner grin. _Airtight alibi, in more ways than one._ “Nonsense. But¼ Return to Central City, eh? Not bad.”

“I’d be careful if I were you. You have a lot of enemies in the higher-ups.”

Interesting turn of phrase, all things considered. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask his friend a certain question, but he thought better of it. “I’m already prepared for that.”

“Be sure to get many allies who will understand and support you when you need it.”

Again, an interesting turn of phrase. “Of course. I’m sure you’ll share any information you find out on this incident, Lieutenant Colonel?”

“Of course, of course. Be very, careful. It would be a shame for you not to see Elysia grow up...such a sweet voice I tell you–,”

“Lieutenant Colonel,” Roy sighed.

“Did I mention that she has the voice of an angel?”

“Yes,” he said impatiently. Now, he actually wanted to wade through those folders, if only not to deal with another monologue about Elysia...

“A Diva, tell you!”

Roy rolled his eyes. A wealth of carefully compiled information was laying in charred ruin and this man wanted to talk about his daughter’s singing? What the hell could a three year old sing about? Stuffed animals and mashed fruit? “Let me see what I can find out on this end...”

“Ah, children. They are a wonderful thing to behold.”

“I’m sure,” Roy was about up to his eyeballs in this conversation. This news had the potential to completely ruin his day and he wasn’t in the mood for it. He wanted nothing to take away this particularly wonderful high he was feeling. “You know, I need to go...”

“No feeling like seeing your own child making you proud! You know, you should hurry up, my friend, and find yourself a wife.  I’ve just met this wonderful girl--,”

Roy threw the phone back into the cradle. Even more now, he had to find out what was behind the events of last night. If it was Hughes and his meddling self...

Riza’s voice cracked from behind him. “There is no need to take it out on the phone. Colonel, please use the phone quietly.”

He whipped around and glared at her. She looked back passively. “That was Hughes.”

She blinked, but that was all. “I understand. That’s still no reason to abuse the phone, sir.”

He told her about what had happened. A glimmer of outrage touched her gaze. “What are we going to do about this?” she wanted to know.

“Wait for more information from the Lieutenant Colonel.”

She pursed her lips, sniffed almost angrily and returned to her desk.

“A fire, did you say?” Havoc asked from the safety of his table across the hall.

Roy turned and filled the others in.

Breda whistled. “That’s terrible, sir. I hope they catch this cretin soon.”

“Yes, well...there’s nothing that we can do for it right now. We’ll have to rely on Hughes to get us any information he thinks we may need to help him.”

“In between stories about his precious little angel,” Havoc muttered.

“Hm... You know she’s singing now?” Roy said, gaining some of his good humor back. His friend would indeed take care of the situation, and would fill him in when he needed to. “A veritable symphony.”

“Hmm… enchanting... so about this new lady in your life? She was quite a looker.”

Like a damned dog with a bone, Havoc was.  Roy froze in the process of opening a folder. “What do you mean, quite a looker? How do you know?”

“I saw her at the party yesterday. Remember, I told you.”

Roy’s hackles went back down. “Ah, yes.”

He heard something suspicious from Riza's desk, something that sounded like a snicker.

Havoc was going on. “Remarkable creature. Blond and leggy, a wonderful set of..., well I’m sure you know all about that. What was her name?”

Roy swallowed. “Her...name?” He hadn’t thought about that. Of course, he had to give ‘the girl’ a name, if she was so wonderful.

“Yeah, her name. She did have a name, didn’t she?”

Roy looked carefully at Jean, wondering. The man was just leaning there, curiosity and his usual nosiness prominent in his expression. “Ah...”

Riza was being particularly savage with the stapling of papers. The others didn’t seem to notice, so he refrained from looking in that direction.

“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t get her name! She was a masterpiece!”

“I still think she looked like...” Breda started, then flushed when he realized what he was about to say. “...ah, someone we know.”

“And I still say you’re as blind as a bat,” Havoc threw over his shoulder. “So, c’mon Colonel, confess. What is this angel’s name and where does she work? The secretary’s pool? The Library?”

“Charlotte!” Roy blurted the first name that came to his mind.

He heard Riza sniff from her desk. “And she isn’t with the military,” he continued, gaining momentum. “She works... in town somewhere.”

“So, how’d she get into the party?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. Remember, I was elsewhere when she got there.”

“Hm. Wonder if she has a sister. Stunning. Like a bullet to the brain.”

There was some noisy straightening of paper from somewhere behind them. Roy refused to rise to the bait, instead arching an eyebrow. “I could find out for you. I’m planning on seeing her tonight.”

That got him another sniff from his First Lieutenant. “If you finish your work tonight, sir, you will.”

“Oh, I’ll finish!” he said expansively, stepping from around his desk to join his male comrades at the table. Despite the news from central, he was enjoying this day. There was something about being a woman’s first lover that gave a man a certain heady something that sent all bad thoughts to the back of his mind. Like an overdose of oxygen. 

He was preparing for a full on brag, full of many tales that men usually shared among themselves when talking of their conquests, something sure to bring his comrades to a state of awe they’d never been in before in their lives.

Before he even opened his mouth, Riza interrupted him again. “Sir, your calendar says that you have personal errands to run.”

He turned. “What? What kind of errands? Can’t they wait?”

“It says something here about uniforms...”

He slapped his forehead. “Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten? I must pick up my cleaning!”

“Perhaps it would be wise if you delay your... other plans until you finish your work and your errands. It wouldn’t do for you to be without clean uniforms. Quite unprofessional.” The Lieutenant flicked a look in Havoc’s direction, taking in the slightly rumpled jacket. “Wouldn’t be a good example for your subordinates.”

“Hm... you’re right, First Lieutenant. Could you take care of that for me? Thanks. I know I can count on you. Have them dropped off at my home this evening. Now, gentlemen, where was I? Ah, yes, Charlotte...a vision, she was. A voice like silk...”

Even as he went on and on, telling them everything, but saying absolutely nothing, he could feel her eyeballs burning the back of his skull. He was going to enjoy apologizing for all this later.

 

 


	11. Taste of a Poisoned Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Riza regret her part in the game?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: AU/Non Canon. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories. Nothing else related to any episode of any kind, except the usage of the character(s) in question, though some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”
> 
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale. Check the current music for the song.

Games without Frontiers

Chapter 10. Taste of a Poisoned Paradise

Rating: R/M

Soundtrack: Toxic – Britney Spears

 

Riza looked up at the clock, rubbing the crick out of her neck. 1700 hours. Time to leave and run the dammed errands for her dammed Colonel. She looked over at him, grumbling and mumbling and tapping as if he were actually reading what was between the covers of the folder in front of him. Never mind that his eyes were fixed on the doodle he was creating in the margin of the document.

This was not going to work. Whatever she’d been thinking the day before, today she knew this was not going to work between them. There was no way she could carry on day to day conversations with this man and not think about what he’d done to her last night. Even that moment, she was picturing him braced above her, sweat dripping from his brow, doing what apparently he did best.

Her left eye began twitching. She found another dozen folders and slapped them on top of the two dozen she already had, picked them up and walked over to his desk.

_Eyes closing as he was filling her and that time it hadn’t hurt_.  He flinched as she slapped the folders on his desk. “Last pile, sir.”

She could hear the groan of the desk as it almost gave way under the weight. She smiled. Good. That would keep him occupied for another... two hours. If he didn’t shove half of them in that bottom drawer.

“And, sir, it’s 1700 hours. Requesting permission to leave for the day to, ah, run those errands.”

That smirk, the same one he gave her when she way finally laying there on her back in her bed, legs twitching, crossed his face.

The temperature in the room rose a good ten degrees, at least in her estimation. She would ask Fuery to check on the air conditioning. 

“Oh, yes, those errands. Thank you so much, First Lieutenant. It really wouldn’t do for me to show up tomorrow in an unkempt condition. Really wouldn’t do. Oh, and I think you’ll need this to take care of those errands for me.” He handed her a tiny envelope.

She took it, her hand barely brushing the rough cloth of his ignition glove. A shiver danced laughingly down her spine, pointing and giggling and chanting some kind of schoolyard taunt about trees and kissing. Telling it to shut up, she opened it and took a look inside. Well, turnabout was certainly fair play. “Yes, sir. I’ll be leaving now.” She saluted and left before his face and casual touch could summon another not work-related vision.

She took the steps two at a time and hit the door, taking a deep breath of fresh air. This would not work. It just couldn’t. She would end up a quivering mass of nerves before it was all over and he would end up in front of a tribunal, waiting for them to shoot him at dawn.

What had she been thinking to believe she could carry on such behavior? Just because she was the only one who could pull him out of his darkness didn’t mean she should have.  There had to have been another way.  Maes was an idiot to think that this could continue like this. 

All thoughts in her head skittered to a halt when she recognized the car sitting in front of the headquarters. And the driver.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, carefully.

“Been asked to take you on your errands, sir.”

“Asked? By whom?”

“The Colonel, sir.”

She gaped. The young man opened the door and gestured. “If you will just step inside, I will explain.”

She did so quickly, before someone saw her standing there looking like a ninny.

First he introduced himself as Sergeant Carey Dennison. Then, without further preamble, he explained his presence and told her what he’d already told the Colonel, and what he hadn’t told the Colonel.

She was floored. The Lieutenant Colonel had certainly taken care of a great deal of contingencies. She said as much, and the young man grinned.

“Sir, he has your best interests at heart.”

Riza sighed. With the one person in charge of every covert resource that one could shake a stick at, who was she to resist?

“It’s still dangerous,” she muttered to herself.

“Yes, sir. Very.”

Riza looked at the Sergeant. “Then why are you involved?”

“Because, the Lieutenant Colonel has every confidence that it will work.”

What devotion and loyalty. She smirked. She knew exactly how he felt.

She doggedly went and picked up the uniforms. No one even gave her a second glance; she was the Colonel’s immediate subordinate and there was nothing wrong with her doing his errands. After all, he had so many more important duties, that he shouldn’t have to worry about his mere laundry! Riza rolled her eyes and made sure that the bill went to the correct place.

She climbed back into the car and told Dennison to take her back to her home. “I have to feed my dog.”

When she walked back into her own home, she was assailed with memories again of the night before. Little hints lay around her house; a missed shard of ceramic from the cup and saucer, that obscene piece of underwear dangling from Black Hayate’s mouth, the towel left on her bed. She picked it up and brought it to her face. It was still damp; his scent was still there. She sat down on the bed and stared at the towel.

After so many years, he was finally everywhere she was. And it honestly scared her to death. She closed her eyes and tried to picture the near future. What met her was a swirl of different scenarios, some good, some bad, some downright comical. Nothing was set or organized, as it should be.

When she had made this decision, she had known there would be consequences. She’d accepted them all at the time, because she knew that what she was doing would probably shock Roy into stopping his downward spiral. Half of her expected that it would only last one night, and that he would recover himself and retreat back into their sterile world of duty and responsibility. But, he hadn’t. He’d actually made a point to tell her that he would discover a way to make a relationship between them work.

And she, silly thing that she was, had given him a week.

In all the years she’d known the man, she’d never known him to back down from a challenge. She’d never known him to fail once challenged either. He had decided he would drag her, drag them both, kicking and screaming if need be, onto this new path, despite herself.

Well, what had she expected?

_Rejection_ , her mind whispered. It had come more than once in her life, and there had been no indication that the Colonel would be any different. Too cold, she was, too detached, was the prevailing opinion. Her training had made her too distant from her fellow humans. Her status as a walking, talking tome of all of the knowledge her father held kept her away from anyone who would discover her secret. 

Only once in her life had she found a connection, and that was with the man who had just invaded every aspect of her life with all of the manic frenzy of a firestorm, stealing all the air from the rooms in her mind like that crazy element that he had at his command.

She nodded to herself, allowing the surrender for the time limit she’d given him. One week. Perhaps he would fail for the first time in his life. And perhaps they could go back to the way things were before she’d walked into that library.  It would probably be for the best.  Until then, she would play along.

She dug in the bottom of her closet for her rucksack. In it, she shoved a spare uniform and everything else she would need. When the pup came to play with the cord of the sack, she looked at him speculatively.

“Do you want to go visit a friend, dear?”

A puppy’s version of a smile and thumping tail was her answer.

She laughed, scooping up the bundle of fur and heading for the door. As she did so, she noticed the bandage on her hand.

Funny how no one asked her what happened to her hand. Especially Havoc. She would have expected about a thousand questions from him.

The sun had completely set as she got herself and Hayate into the waiting car. The trip to the Colonel’s house was taken in thoughtful silence, for which Riza was grateful. She was a bundle of nerves, finally realizing that she was truly on a path where the end was completely obscured. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

They pulled up to the small flat. Riza knew that Roy had a modest home, nothing flashy, quite unexpected for the personality he portrayed. It didn’t even look bigger than her own home. Her curiosity was piqued; how did the Colonel live when no one was looking?

“I’ll be here in the morning, sir,” Dennison told her as she carried her the cleaning, rucksack and Hayate out of the car. She told him goodnight, and watched as he drove off into the night.

Maes had certainly covered almost all of the contingencies.

She moved to the door, her stomach flipping and flopping. Putting the dog down, she pulled the key out of her pocket, fitted it into the lock.

The door flew open before she could even turn it. She almost fell inside, when a hand grabbed her arm and pulled.

She, the cleaning, her rucksack and the dog stumbled over the threshold and stood there blinking, wondering if she’d been the victim of some kind of ambush. Her hand even went for her sidearm.

“I thought you weren’t going to come.”

Well, if he turned on a light or two, she could probably see him. Squinting, she made out a shadow sitting on a rather large bed in the corner. Pursing her lips, she dropped everything and felt around for a lamp. Turning it up, she took in her surroundings.

Three rooms. A kitchen, a bathroom and a great room, containing nothing more than desk, a couch, a bookshelf and bed with a footlocker at the end. Not much more than was in a dormitory room, just larger. The bed seemed to be the only true luxury in the room. It was antique; a large four-poster affair that was covered with simple linens and more pillows than one human should ever possess. She eyed it with some wariness. It was quite big enough for the both of them, and then some. And looked very comfortable.

She finally took in the man who owned this picture of militant simplicity. He was sitting there, hands clasped between his knees, head bowed. On the floor beside his foot, she noticed with a small gasp, was a bottle. She was on it like her namesake on a rat. Before he could react, she’d snatched it up and taken it to the kitchen. Upending it, she waited, and sure enough he’d followed her to offer a half-hearted protest.

“As long as I am here, you will have no other mistresses,” she told him. “Especially _this_ bitch.”  Well, that had been certainly forward of her.

“I thought you weren’t going to come,” he repeated.

“And what did you think I was going to do, come rushing over here like a silly little piece of fluff?” she demanded to know. “Or, oh yes, call Havoc and have his nosy ass bring me some clothes to wear tomorrow? Or, perhaps, let my poor dog starve to death just so that you could get your hands on me?”

He was staring at her, a half-smile on his face. Her mouth clicked shut on whatever else she was going to throw at him.

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Be as ... frigid at work and so ...” he waved his hand, “elsewhere?”

She blushed. “I can’t be a bitch all of the time, Colonel. I’d be grey haired and wrinkled before I turned thirty.” She pitched the empty bottle in the trash and moved back into the great room. Lifting the cleaned uniforms, she asked. “Where do these go?”

“You can leave them there,” there was a note in Roy’s voice, which warned her to put the uniforms down, and quickly. He was pacing toward her, a determined stalk. Given the size of the room, she knew it wouldn’t take that long to reach her. She put the uniforms on the couch and gave them a pat.

Before she could do much more, he’d grabbed her by the arms and was lifting and pushing her, about an inch from the ground. Her back came in contact with a wall and her breath left her in a gasp. She had no time to inhale, either, because his lips were on her between one frantic heartbeat and the next.

It was fortunate that he hadn’t tasted like that whiskey, or she would have been forced to push him away. Instead, she moaned, and grabbed a double-handful of his shirt, hanging on as he assaulted her senses once again. He swept her hands aside and began yanking on the lapels of her jacket, pulling on the fasteners of her trousers. “I thought you weren’t going to come,” he mumbled again against her mouth, trying to frantically do several things at once. Finally, cursing he released her lips and concentrated on divesting her of her clothing. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought that perhaps she should slow him, if not stop him completely. Her arms chose then to disobey her.

He gave up on her jacket, and cursed, reaching for her trousers again. She placed her head on his shoulder and took a deep breath. She was amazed that she never noticed that scent ... like a lit match, underneath a layer of something spicy. Sparks and black cardamom.* It was from the cloth of his gloves, his cologne, residuals all over all exposed parts of his body.

She felt the cloth of her trousers slipping past her hips, her underwear bunched with them. Deft, that. She wriggled a little, and they slipped further down, past her knees.

He was panting against her cheek, even as his hand wandered down, touching her again. His mouth moved in a smile that she could feel in a chuckle she couldn’t hear over her own gasp. He said it again as his fingers moved, fluttering inside of her, finding switches in her that she didn’t know she had, “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

As he somehow manipulated the very breath from her body and sparked a flame that engulfed her from inside, she managed through a breathless sob, “I’m here.”

* _Note:_ _Cardamom_ _sometimes calledblack cardamom, is a spice consisting of the seeds of several plants in the_ _genera Elettaria and Amomum in the family Zingiberaceae._

 


	12. I Need a Soldier that Aint Scared to Stand Up For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light dawns on marble head.

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 11. I Need a Soldier that ain’t Scared to Stand Up for Me**

**Rating: PG**

**Soundtrack: Soldier – Destiny’s Child**

 

Riza woke up with a headache.

The past six days had been surreal. She knew she needed to take a break or watch her brain implode from the overload. And, if she spent one more evening in Roy’s rather expert company, she would lose the ability to sit upright. Or even sit at all. That’s exactly what she told him when she left him the morning before; that she needed a day to collect herself and her thoughts. He’d given her a smug little grin when she made the comment about sitting. She rolled her eyes and reminded him of the date.

And promptly wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Roy’s expression shut down and his mood had swung downward from that moment.

This was the last day of the week. The week she’d given him to work things out. And he hadn’t even given her one idea of what he’d done to do just that. All she saw of his attempts were books, tons of them, dusty and old, full of military regulations, law and alchemy of all things.

As she stood there and let the hot water pound away the pain in her skull, she wondered just what he had up his sleeve. Or if he had anything up his sleeve at all.

She knew he’d done some research. She knew he’d called Maes almost daily, on the pretense of poking his nose into the events at Central. She knew for a fact that he’d found nothing out from that source; because she’d talked to Maes that afternoon.

“How are things going, Hawkeye?”

“They are going...,” she muttered.

“That doesn’t sound too good. What’s happened?”

She explained the limit she’d put on the Colonel. Hughes had chuckled and told her not to worry. Roy would roast everyone and everything that got in the way of solving that problem. He’d also told her that Roy had not asked Maes if he’d been the one to start this whole thing in the first place. Yet.  Riza thought that odd. By now it should have obvious that the only capable or willing to pull such a stunt was Hughes, and by now Roy should have been trotting about quite full of himself, satisfied that his world was turning in the direction he wanted.

But still he’d said nothing to her. He’d said very little to her or anyone else for the past two days. He was pouting, pure and simple. Riza realized that she’d actually managed to hobble the mustang, had halted the wildcard. She stood there her fingers and toes were wrinkled and her brain was completely drenched, then dressed for work. It was the only thing she could do until the end of the day.

The office felt more like a mausoleum. Annoying comments were at a minimum; the black cloud over the Colonel’s head kept everyone there at bay. He just kept to his paperwork. Or least he looked like he was keeping to his paperwork. Once, when he left to ‘stretch his legs’, Riza found twenty folders in the bottom drawer, all with interesting little doodles and stick figures drawn on the inside. She shook her head and placed them back where they belonged. Upon his return, he grimaced at being found out and she couldn’t resist.

“Sir, these things, among others, have to be taken care of by the end of the day. It is the last of the week, you know.”

He flushed and shot her a look from hooded lids, but flipped open the first folder without comment.

After that, he kept conversation with her to a minimum, saying only what was absolutely necessary.  She shrugged to herself and continued working. Today, he was twelve.  If that was the way he wanted to be, so be it. She couldn’t expect much more.

When she could, she left for the mess, and spent her lunch for the most part alone under her own black cloud. Though her surroundings were much more dynamic and noisy, her food tasted even more like sludge than normal. Sawdust probably would have tasted better. Since she hadn’t spent her time in mindless chit chat, she dragged herself back in early. When she walked in, she noticed that the office was still empty, but for the Colonel and Havoc. The Colonel (and it was safer to think of him like that today) was on the phone, trying to force information out of Hughes yet again. Havoc was at the other table, sorting folders and looking quite put out to be doing so. Riza wondered how long it would take for the ash hanging off the end of his cigarette to drop and set the whole pile of papers on fire. At least that would bring some life to the office today. Sighing, she went back to work.

The Colonel slammed the phone down and growled impotently, clenching a fist. Riza gave him an arched eyebrow at the dramatics; when he glared at her, daring her to comment, she rolled her eyes and went back to her own work. It really wasn’t her fault he was in a bad mood. He had to know that this day would come. He couldn’t stay locked in the candy store forever.  Sugar shock would be a bitch.

It was a strange sensation, to hear nothing but the shuffling of papers, the scratching of pens and pencils, and the mutterings of a foul-tempered commanding officer. So, it was the click of a lighter that startled her completely out of her wits. She tensed and looked up. Havoc was leaned back in his chair, lighting a cigarette with a shiny new lighter. The lowering sunlight from the window caught the metal and it sparkled.  He caught her staring and gave her a crooked smile. She gave an explosive sigh and went back to her paperwork. If she’d been a clock watcher, she would have gotten a crick in her neck this day. She couldn’t wait for it to be over.

It came quicker than she’d thought. The next time she came up for air, it was 1800 hours and the light was fading outside.  Falman, Fuery and Breda had managed to sneak out early. The only persons left were herself, the surly Colonel and Havoc.  Reluctantly, she dragged herself away from her desk and walked to the big desk. The Colonel hadn’t even bothered to look up from the book on his desk. He ran his fingers along a line on a page, and scribbled something on a sheet of paper before he looked up. He seemed to be annoyed to be interrupted. Riza winced, then saluted.

“Permission to leave, sir.”

He gave her a blank look then looked at the clock. Again that flush crossed his features and he glared. “Fine. Good evening, First Lieutenant.”

Riza blinked. She wanted to scream at the top of his head, to rage at him to stop regressing in age – now, he was acting like a three year old who’d lost his brand new toy and talk to her. But, Havoc was still there, so she just pursed her lips, straightened her shoulders and turned to leave.

She made it to the door before a bark of laughter made her stumble. She turned. The Colonel was staring, having just been startled so much that he’d just carved a hole in the sheet of paper on which he’d been writing with his pen. His gaze rested on the other occupant of the room, who was now leaning against the table, laughing. Laughing, of all things.

“Havoc, what is it that you’re smoking today?” The Colonel asked bitingly.

Riza turned back to the door, not in the mood to hear anything those two had to say to each other.

“Hawkeye.”

Riza stumbled again, cursing. She looked over her shoulder at her colleague, who was walking toward her with that same crooked grin on her face. He reached in his pocket and pulled out that lighter again. But, instead of lighting up again, he took her hand and placed it in the center of her palm.

“You two are very funny, you know that?”

As Riza stared at the thing in her hand, she heard the Colonel asking, “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was the double-damned lighter from the first night.  Where had he found it?  Where had she left it?

How did he know it belonged to her?

Havoc reached behind Riza and closed the double doors. “I had an interesting phone call this afternoon,” he told them. “Seems that I’ve been a little lax in my vigilance.”

“I’m going to concur with the Colonel, Second Lieutenant Havoc,” Riza said. “What are you talking about?”

“And here I was thinking you had it all figured out, Colonel,” Havoc drawled in that straight off the turnip truck voice, crossing his arms and leaning against the doors, effectively barring entrance by any outsider. It was also keeping Riza from leaving, which annoyed her to no end. “You seemed to be clicking along quite competently. What happened?” Havoc gestured at the book on the desk. “Could you not find a good enough loophole in the regulations to keep you safe?”

The Colonel growled and stood up. “Explain yourself, Lieutenant.”

Havoc didn’t seemed intimidated by the look or the stance.  He simply flipped the cigarette in his mouth from one side to the other.  “You don’t need a loophole, Colonel,” he said.

Riza thought a bullet hole would accentuate the Second Lieutenant’s forehead quite nicely.

“There’s so much going on right now at Central that no one could care less about what we’re doing over here.”

“Again, I’m not following you,” the Colonel said slowly, warning deepening his tone.

Riza glanced over again at the Colonel, at his right hand.  While the left hand braced him over his desk, the right one was almost at rest. Almost.  Riza commonly called that pose the snapping position.

Havoc shook his head and pulled the butt out of his mouth. “The Fuhrer himself would probably come to your wedding, if only to get away from the fracas in Central.”

Riza suddenly had the urge to sit, but realized she was nowhere near a seat. She moved to the table, away from the man in the door, desperately retreating. “W-wedding?”

“What fracas in Central?”

Riza looked over at the Colonel, willing him with her eyes to just shut up.

“Nothing to concern ourselves with yet,” Havoc waved a hand. “Hughes said he would let you know when things were getting too out of hand.”

“Hughes?” Riza said, still stunned. She could sense this conversation taking a very interesting turn.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes? The one with the lovely little girl?” Havoc chuckled. “I talked to him this afternoon. I do believe Elysia is composing symphonies today. You two were so busy ignoring each other, you didn’t even notice when I left.”

Riza looked at the Colonel. He was staring at her now, giving her his undivided attention.  His hand had flattened on the desk, completely at ease.

“Dennison told me things were getting tense between you,” Jean shook his head, moving to put a hand on Riza’s shoulder. She jumped at the mention of the Sergeant’s name. “Hughes told me about this ‘time limit’ thing you set on our good old Colonel, too. A week? You sold him short, First Lieutenant.”

“Okay, Havoc, I would think real carefully before you speak,” the Colonel warned.

“You know, I’d ask for permission to speak freely but that would take too much time. If you’d been paying attention, Mustang, you would have realized that you didn’t need to do anything to make this work.”

The Colonel turned away from Riza and looked at the Lieutenant. “What nonsense are you spewing?”

Havoc sighed. “Okay, think about this. Say, just for fairy tale’s sake, that oh...” he grinned. “You two were actually seeing one another, in a less than professional capacity.”

Riza blushed and the Colonel cleared his throat, looking everywhere in the room but each other.

“And someone found out about it. Someone not so nice.”

“It would be our necks in the noose,” the Colonel growled.  “Even your grass-fed ass knows that.”

“Hmm. Possibly. Who do you think they would go to? Your superior officer?” Jean shook his head. “You don’t have a superior officer here.”

Riza sat up straight, saying quietly, slowly. “There would have to be an investigation of the accusation.”

“Uh-huh. Very good, First Lieutenant. And who do you think would get the call?”

Riza continued, as Roy had suddenly lost the ability to speak. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes.”

“Again, you are right. Now. I’m sure he would investigate to the best of his ability. Don’t you think he’d exhaust every avenue available to him to get to the bottom of the controversy?”

“Of course he would,” Riza looked over at Roy, who was looking at his shoes, either deep in thought, or mortified that he hadn’t thought of this himself.  “He helped the Colonel get here; it would reflect badly on him if the Colonel were found guilty of something so scandalous.”

“He would interview everyone in the staff. And we would all have to answer truthfully, wouldn’t we?”

“Yes.”

Havoc leaned back and crossed his arms. “And who do you think would ask the questions?”

“Hughes.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“He’s crazy.” This came from the general direction of Roy’s feet.

“Granted. Although I never said so, of course. He would also write a very thorough report about how he interviewed everyone and found no evidence to support the accusation.”

“You knew.”

Havoc looked at Riza and smiled. “Breda might be blind, but I’m not. I used to dream about those brown eyes before I realized you’d just as soon put a bullet in my butt as go out with me.”

Riza chuckled despite herself, remembering those big, blue calf eyes in the early days.

“Now, the important thing is to make sure that Breda – and Fuery, and Falman – stay blind for now.” He stood and straightened his jacket. “And that means you two have to stop fighting.” As they just stood there, staring at him, he clapped his hands loudly. They jumped. “Go ahead! Stop pouting, sir, and apologize properly to the lady. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed for...oh, say... ten minutes? That enough time?”

“Maybe for you,” Roy said reluctantly.

“Well then.” Havoc snapped a smart salute. “Permission to withdraw?”

The smile on Roy’s looked like a slow sunrise. “Permission granted.”

When the doorway closed, Riza looked over at Roy. She didn’t even need to say a word.

“Again, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Again, blindingly obvious. Sir.”

He cracked a grin. “I seem to have that problem a lot as of late, First Lieutenant.”

“I noticed. You think you can get over it long enough to make this work out?”

“Well, if my mind wasn’t full of all the paperwork you see fit to foist on me...”

Riza held up her hand and turned to the door. “Tomorrow night, I’ll cook you dinner. Maybe some brain food.”

“Riza. She turned, her hand on the knob.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Wait. Do you forgive me for being stupid?”

“Of course.”

 


	13. We Are Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys were coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: AU/Non Canon. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories. Nothing else related to any episode of any kind, except the usage of the character(s) in question, though some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”
> 
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale. Check the current music for the song.

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 12. We Are Wild**

**Rating: PG**

**Soundtrack: Young Volcanoes – Fall Out Boy**

 

 

It was cold at the train station. Riza pulled her overcoat tighter around her and gazed down long railroad track.

The boys were coming home.

Roy tried not to seem worried about them, but in the evenings, when he could be himself, she could see him winding himself into such a turn she wanted to scream at him. If Edward and Alphonse were in such trouble, Maes would have told him. He knew that, so she didn’t yell at him and he kept his distress to himself. Watching him rumble like a shaken up champagne bottle wasn’t much better, so she allowed herself to become his distraction.

After Jean had surprised them with his revelation, Roy had calmed with his attentions toward her. For which Riza was ultimately grateful. She had been starting to feel as if the only reason Roy continued the relationship was for the sex.  _Not that the sex was bad_ , _thank you very much_ , she thought, her lips curving into a secret little smile. She was still trembling from that goodbye she’d gotten into before she left to meet the boys. She’d left him lightly snoring in her bed with the puppy curled on the pillow beside him.

The train came into view and her spirits rose even higher. Life was going to get decidedly more interesting now that these two had returned. Despite themselves, Riza had acquired a soft spot for young volcanoes better known as Edward and Alphonse. Edward tried to hide everything behind that brash and tough exterior, but she knew better. She’d been a past expert at that particular brand of subterfuge. Under every layer of protection he’d built, he was still a vulnerable fifteen year old boy.

She’d decided that the two were going to come home with her for a change, at least for the night. Dormitories were really no place for young boys like that; these two had enough bad habits without gaining more from a building full of uncouth grunts.

After a moment or two of indecision, she had come to the conclusion that there was no way that those two could remain ignorant of the way things were between herself and Roy. If anyone would keep their secret, it would be those two.

She moved up the platform, looking through the windows for the familiar tow-headed whirlwind and his iron clad brother. She saw them moving through the train; Alphonse saw her and waved back, his hand scraping the ceiling of the train. She wondered if she should startle them by smiling and waving back. No, she would hold the pretense up a little longer. Besides, there was no telling who was accompanying them.

When she saw who that was, her jaw almost hit the ground. Then she physically and mentally braced herself, because she knew beyond a doubt what this particular greeting was going to be like.

“First Lieutenant Hawkeye! So wonderful to see you!” Maes Hughes said expansively. “So nice to see a welcoming face after that boring train ride, I tell you.”

“Lieutenant Colonel,” she said, saluting.  She was going to be surrounded by whirlwinds from every direction.

“How are things on this side of the world? Boring? Dull? Nothing of the sort? I’m betting on the latter. Ah, I wish I could have brought my darling little angel with me! Have you seen the latest picture of her?”

Riza smiled weakly at the photograph now sitting approximately one-half inch from her nose. It was so close, it could have been anything, for all she knew. All she could see was a blur of color, which vaguely possessed a pair of pigtails and big, big green eyes.

“What a talent she is! She has this little player piano and I tell you, if she hasn’t composed her first symphony by the time I return, I’m a tree!”

_A nice tree you are_ , Hughes, Riza said to herself. _A larch_ , I do believe. “Beautiful as always, Lieutenant Colonel.” She looked at the two Elric brothers, one dancing from one foot to the other, one politely waiting to be acknowledged. “Edward. Alphonse. Did you have a pleasant trip?”

“Yes, First Lieutenant,” Alphonse told her. “We couldn’t keep Brother still though.”

“I understand; I don’t like long train rides either. Shall we? The car is waiting,” Riza said.

As the brothers walked ahead, Hughes bent down to her. “How are things?”

“Well enough,” she dared not crack a smile at the hopeful look on his face. “I still think you would look nice with a bullet hole between your eyes.”

“Mustang?” he asked.

“He wants to turn you into a piece of charcoal,” she replied.

“Good. Good,” Maes nodded.

“Havoc was very helpful,” she said.

Maes chuckled, “Knew he would be.  It’s the quiet ones to watch out for.”

Edward, being himself, clambered into the car without a second thought. Alphonse, however, was nice enough to hold the driver’s side door open for him.

Edward and Alphonse crammed themselves into the back seat, Alphonse doing the best he could at slouching so his didn’t scrape the top of the car.  Hughes planted himself in the passenger side and busied himself by shuffling through the endless photos he kept in his wallet.  “This is the dress we got her for the first day of school,” he was babbling.  “I know that’s a few years off, but still… oh, and this one is Elysia’s first time at a picnic… and this one…”

 As they pulled up the street in front of her home, she hoped that Roy had awakened and read the note she’d left. It would be highly embarrassing if he were still sprawled all over her bed when she opened the door.

She sighed in relief as she cracked the door. He was lounging on the couch in her front room, quite as if he’d been waiting there for the entire time. Perfectly dressed in a casual pair of slacks and a button-down shirt. He even combed his hair.

“Fullmetal! Good to see you! Hey, you’re looking a bit peaked there, you doing all right?” He snapped up and came forward. “Maybe you haven’t been eating right. Should be drinking more milk you know. Does a body good. Give you strong bones, makes you grow.”

Riza closed her eyes. Hughes groaned and took a step to the left.

“You saying I need to grow?” Edward growled. And then it began. “ _Who-are-you-calling-so-short-that-the-only-thing-that-would-make-me-grow-would-be-milk-which-tastes-like-vomit_?!”

Roy simply leaned out the way of the flailing arms, grinning. “Well, I stand corrected. You must be just fine, to come up with that mouthful.” He greeted Alphonse with enough restraint, then turned a gimlet glare on Hughes. “You and I need to speak on a few subjects.”

Maes gave him an innocently blank look. “We do?”

“You know we do,” Roy said.

Maes pulled at his collar. “Ah, yes. Well.”

“If you would like some privacy, Brother and I can go the dormitories–,” Al started.

“You’re staying here tonight,” Riza said calmly. Edward gave her a strange look, which she made a point to ignore as she moved toward the kitchen. The boys – all four of them – knew better than to question her.

“Thought you two would like more a home-cooked meal, and my place is no place for entertaining,” Roy was saying.  _At least not his kind of entertaining_ , Riza thought, stifling another smile. She was looking forward to this. “I imposed upon the First Lieutenant to open up her home for you,” Roy said.

“Of course, it is no imposition,” she called from the kitchen.

“You are constantly imposing on the poor First Lieutenant,” Maes said. “What would you do if she got tired of you and transferred to… say Central?”

“I’m sure I would perish,” Roy said almost breezily.

“He would survive,” Riza called, as she brought out a tray of tea and cookies.

“So versatile, is the First Lieutenant,” said Maes, tugging on the rims of his glasses.

Riza shot him a look, reminding him that she was very versatile. So versatile that could draw her gun, shoot off his nose and not even drop the tray.

“Extremely so,” Roy said again.

She turned to him with a slow blink. “Thank you, sir.”

She managed to make him flush. Satisfied, she started serving the tea. “You got a cold, Colonel?” Edward asked. He took the piled high plate and started shoveling cookies in. “Perhaps you should drink more milk yourself.”

“No. The air’s just a bit thin all the way up here. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you?” Roy leaned back and staring at the ceiling. Riza cleared her throat. He looked at her and the tea cup she had shoved under his nose. Again, the flush returned and he took the cup, burying his nose deep. Then Riza turned her eyes on Edward, and surprisingly, he subsided back to his plate.

Wild. The whole lot of them.

“Well, that may change soon,” Maes said seriously, leaning forward. “I hate to bring this up here, but we have a lead on where Scar may be hiding.”

Riza sat on the couch, a good two feet away from Roy, sipped at her tea, and waited.

On cue, Roy leaned forward as well. “You found him?” he exclaimed.

“Just a lead, just a lead. But if it pans out, you might want to send a few people to round him up,” Maes said.

“Send a few people? I’ll go myself!” Roy was still smarting that he’d lost the chance to roast the Alchemist-killer with his own hand. Rather, his backside was probably still smarting, Riza thought, swallowing a chuckle in a sip.

“I suspected that you would want to go. Perhaps tomorrow we can go over what I’ve learned,” Maes leaned back and stretched. “I’m so tired! That was a long train ride, and you know I must call Gracia and say goodnight to my little precious one.”

Riza wished she could warn Roy.

“Just take a look! Beyond precious! Heavenly really...” Maes produced his ever present pictorial proof of his ability to produce offspring.

Roy simply brushed the picture out of his face. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Hughes.”

Maes stood. “Of course, of course...” He gave a jaunty salute to Riza. “Oh, don’t get up. It’s your own house after all and we’re all off duty. I can see myself out.”

_I bet you can_. Riza nodded her head just the same. “Tomorrow, sir.”

As Maes left, Alphonse said from his spot on the floor next to his brother, “Are you sure we’re not imposing, First Lieutenant?”

“Of course, not, Alphonse,” Riza told him. “It’s rare that I have these many visitors. It’s been getting a bit boring around here lately and I’m glad for the company.”

She pointedly ignored the little frown she received from her left side and stood. “I’ll just get the table set.”

Dinner in her house was an interesting affair. It was true that it had been some time since Riza had entertained quite so many people. Her dinners with Roy were intimate affairs, simple fare, and soft conversations. This was a raucous thing, with Edward devouring everything he could get his hands on, and Alphonse rattling on about their adventures at Central. He told them his take on the Library fire, how they’d discovered someone who managed to copy every book and record that had been destroyed from memory, and was probably still scratching pen to paper even now. Edwards threw in comments between chews and swallows.

Roy pushed food around on his plate, still probably stinging from her boring comment. These days, he was so sensitive to almost every little thing she said out the office. Still not sure if he was imagining their whole relationship. Still not sure of her, she knew.

Riza waited calmly for a space to fit in her announcement. It came after Edward had exhausted the contents of every serving dish on the table, and leaned back, patting his stomach and listening to the last parts of Alphonse’s tale.

“Well, I’ve just been going on and on,” Alphonse gave her just the opening she needed. “What’s new here, sir?”

Riza smiled and put down her fork. That should have warned them, that smile, but perhaps Edward was too drowsy from feeding like a newly-hatched bird, and Alphonse was just too polite to note that the First Lieutenant had actually cracked a smile without splitting her face wide open.

“Not much. Just one... small change,” Riza said slowly.

With these two she knew she didn’t need much more of a preamble. So, she took a breath and told them. It didn’t take too long, she didn’t waste time on detailed explanations or descriptions. It was unfortunate that she couldn’t tell Alphonse’s reaction from his expression. Edward, on the other hand, was another story. His eyes bugged wide enough for the both of them.

“You....? Him....?” he sputtered. “But... _why_?”

“Why?” Roy asked, leaning forward. “What do you mean _why_?”

“Just what I said. Why?”

“Because we have feelings for one another, Edward,” Riza told him.

“For him?” Edward said, boggled.

“Hey! What’s wrong with me?” Roy demanded.

“You got time? Or you want a detailed report on it tomorrow?” Edward replied.

“Look, sprout–,” Roy started.

“Who-you-calling–,” Edward's voice suddenly rose.

“Enough, you two!” Riza called. They shut down like quarreling siblings. “I won’t have you flailing my house down around my ears. I’m sure you two understand the need for the utmost discretion about this.”

Alphonse nodded so quickly, his helm rattled.

“You two could be in big trouble for this,” Edward said. “Which is another reason why I don’t understand _why_ the First Lieutenant would risk her career for —,”

“I’m risking it because I want to, Edward,” Riza said softly.

Even he knew better than to argue with that tone of voice. With a confused look, he subsided in the chair.

“Only three other people know about this. One of them just left here. The others...” She looked at Roy, wondering if she should tell them.

“In for half, in for whole,” Roy said. “My new driver is one, and Second Lieutenant Havoc is the other. You two are the last two who will know for the moment.” He stressed that, looking at Riza carefully.

“Any more would be dangerous,” Riza replied.

“We won’t tell,” Alphonse said calmly, taking it all in stride. Surely he had heard more startling revelations in his short life.

Edward added his agreement. “My lips are sealed. I got better things to do than gossip. People know better than to ask me questions that I don’t want to answer.”

Which was why Riza thought it fine to tell them in the first place. She nodded. “Now. It’s late, and you two look like you could use some rest. I can make up the couch for you, Edward.”

“I’m fine where I am, First–,” Al started.

“Please, Alphonse, while you’re in my house, you can call me Riza.”

“Riza, can I call you into the kitchen?” Roy suddenly asked.

Riza arched her brow at that note in Roy’s voice. “You may. Excuse me, boys.”

In the kitchen, he leaned into her face. “I’m not going home tonight,” he whispered.

“Of course, you are. They are children. It’s not proper that you sleep... with me while they are here,” Riza returned in the same hushed tones.

Roy growled. “You are a cruel woman.”

“Keep calling me names and I won’t let you kiss me before you go,” the First Lieutenant returned calmly, eyes narrowing.

“Did I say cruel? You are a paragon of virtue. A vision of beauty–,” Roy said, eyes meeting hers.

She tiptoed up and put her lips on his quickly. “Shut up, sir, and go home.”

“You sure it was wise to tell them?” Roy asked.

“Could _you_ have kept it from them?” Riza questioned.

Roy sighed, then touched his forehead to hers. “No.”

“They won’t say anything. You know this. If anyone can keep a secret, it is Elric brothers,” Riza assured him.

“Hmm.” He stole a quick kiss again. “They are full to the teeth with secrets.”

“Hey, Riza!” Edward’s voice floated from the living room. “You got any more of those cookies?”

Riza’s mouth quirked. “Did you say full to the teeth? I’d say Edward has a hollow leg.”

 

 


	14. Watch Out Here I Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is never a boring day at the office with Team Mustang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU because I play with the timeline. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories and plots. Some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Based roughly on both the ’03 and FMA:B. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”
> 
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale. Check the current music for the song.

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 13: Watch Out Here I Come**

**Rating: M**

**Soundtrack: _You Spin Me Round_ – Dead or Alive**

 

 _Beef with a side of creamed potatoes and slice carrots. No, vegetables and rice. No, noodles. Just noodles. With butter. Milk. With sugar. Crumpets with berries and cream._ _  
_  
“Hawkeye,” the Colonel’s voice cracked across the mental conversation her stomach was having with her. “Check with the courier and get the folders on the new transfers. I’m hearing rumors about an audit.”  
  
An audit. Just what this office needed. Riza sighed and went and did as she was told.  
  
_Those crumpets that your grandmother used to make. Remember those?_ _  
_  
Her stomach had making pronouncements and demands ever since midmorning. While she headed down the hall, she decided for once to respond. _Grandmother is dead. You can’t have those crumpets._ _  
_  
_That matters not. The crumpets will do just fine._ _  
  
_ Riza called herself a fool and picked up the great satchel of files from Central.  
  
_No, what you really want, dear, is coffee. Black coffee. No cream, no sugar. Just coffee._ _  
  
_ Riza shook her head and ignored her stomach for the rest of the way back. It was obviously delusional. Coffee, indeed. She despised coffee.  
  
The usual folders were there, as well as the fifty new transfers. The first folder on her stack had intrigued her, though, so she shoved the others aside and opened it.  
  
It was a dossier on new research; armor piercing, exploding rounds. How they were made, where to get them, who had invented them.  
  
_Hello, remember me? I said I wanted coffee._ _  
  
_ She was enraptured, so she told her stomach to wait. She would go to the mess as soon as she finished the file.  
  
_Apples? How about a big piece of pie. Or cake. Yes, you want cake don’t you?  No. Just coffee. Black, no cream, no sugar. Just coffee._ _  
_  
Riza twitched. Drinking coffee was like drinking watered down dirt. She was a tea kind of person. And when she had to endure coffee because nothing else was available, she took it with much cream and all the sugar she could put into it. Black coffee was an abomination, to be sure.  
  
_No cream. No sugar. Just the grounds and the water. Now._ _  
_  
She pulled at her collar and once again told her stomach to be quiet.  
  
_You be quiet. I am hungry and I want to eat now!_ _  
_  
Her stomach took that opportunity to lurch alarmingly, as if it were going to stage a revolution and head to mess without her. She rolled her eyes and stood. “I’m going to the mess. Permission to withdraw, sir?” She asked the Colonel. He waved, not even looking up from the game of tic-tac-toe he played with himself. So much for the worries of an audit. She left what folders she could find on the corner of his desk.  
  
She made it into the mess and into line just in time to halt the ever-increasing hunger litany. She took the meat-like substance, the starch-like substance, and the vegetable-like substance. And ignored the big drum of coffee.  
  
She shoveled in the food without really tasting it, which was a fortunate thing. Mess food the world over tasted the same, and it was best if one could avoid actually letting the stuff touch one’s tongue. After a few moments, she noticed an odd silence and looked up to see Fuery and Breda staring at her.  
  
“What?” she asked.  
  
“Ah,” Fuery said, “You hungry, Hawkeye?”  
  
Riza looked down. Interesting. She’d just sat down and the plate was already empty. “I suppose I was.” She looked up at them; they were still staring. “Do I have food on my face?”  
  
“Ah...no! Not at all.” Fuery and Breda went back to their conversation, stealing quick glances in her direction, as if she were about to reach out and devour their limbs for dessert. Riza shrugged inwardly and stood.  
  
Apparently, in the war with her stomach, standing was a tactical error. Her stomach constricted, telling her in no uncertain terms that what she had just given it was not what it wanted.  
  
_Didn’t I say I wanted coffee? Coffeeeeee Coffee-coffee-coffee. Black gold. The poor man’s wine. This isn’t coffee. Get this stuff out of here._ _  
_  
Scrambling, she made it to the latrine just in time.  
  
She virtually crawled over to the mirror and looked at her bedraggled reflection in wonder. Her stomach was lined with iron. It was well known that she could eat anything in the mess and not blink twice. Many a man had tried to trick her into giving up her lunch the good old fashioned way and many a man had failed.  
  
_You know what to do_ , her stomach commanded. _You want that to happen to you again?_ _  
  
_ Riza splashed her face, fixed her hair and walked with as much dignity as possible back to the mess. To the large drum. She grabbed a cup, mutinously poured a cup and took a sip.  
  
_Aaahhh, yes. You are forgiven._ _  
_  
Abomination might have been a strong word. The coffee was not as bitter as it usually was. She took another sip, then recalled that she would be wired for the rest of the day if she finished it. She considered her choices for a moment, recalled the trip to the latrine, and then downed the cup in one swallow, wincing against the burn in her throat.  
  
Again she suffered the stares of her comrades, but this time she ignored them. There was a file waiting for her to finish.  
  
An hour later, she sat back and rubbed the crick out of her neck, and briefly watched her left leg bounce up and down. Damned caffeine. She closed the folder, satisfied that she’d learned all she could about the new rounds. The pyrotechnics involved in those exploding rounds would put even the Colonel to shame. With more finesse and ultimate directness, these bullets would be much more effective. She would never tell him that, though. She slid a requisition form from her desk and began the process to order a test box of the new ammunition.  
  
“Stop me if you’ve heard this one before,” she heard Breda say to Havoc.  
  
Riza’s ear took a moment to attend to the conversation, then veered away when she realized that Breda was introducing a foul limerick of some kind.  And of course the four cackled at the punch line as if they’d never heard it before.  Teenagers, the lot of them.  Even she’d heard that limerick before. _Knit a sweater, indeed._ _  
  
_ “Gentlemen, do you need something to do?” She asked and was met with sudden, guilty silence.  
  
Her stomach was still a little wobbly from the fiasco in the mess hall. She reverently made it a promise to stay away from meat-like substances and stay closer to the coffee pot if that’s what it took. She pulled open her top left-hand drawer and rummaged for second before coming up with a cookie she’d brought from home. She opened the next folder on her desk – a less interesting personnel file - and munched slowly. The cookie was dry; it crumbled easily. She reached out with her tongue and swiped a crumb from the corner of her mouth.  
  
And looked up as she heard the sound of a cat being strangled. She looked over at the Colonel. He was holding a folder up to his face, so she couldn’t see his expression, but she was certain that the sound had come from that direction. She certainly wasn’t losing her hearing.  
  
There were crumbs left on her fingers, and it would have been a shame to loose such amazing cookie goodness, so she discreetly stuck the pad of her thumb in her mouth and sucked. Again, she heard that sound and again she looked up. Again, the folder was back in front of his face, but this time she was beyond doubt that it had been him. What was wrong with the man? Maybe he needed to go take a lunch himself. “Sir? Did you need something?”  
  
Again he waved at her, but the folder never moved. She shrugged. Really. Sometimes she could find herself sympathizing with the Colonel’s parents – both natural and foster. He must have been something to behold as a child.  
  
The phone rang, startling her. The Colonel answered, and muttered for a moments. Then she heard him curse and saw him shake his fist.  
  
“Lieutenant Colonel, why didn’t you let me know of this before he got away? Are you slipping in your old age? Yes, well, are you positive this time?”  
  
Riza went back to counting transfers.  
  
“Does your daughter know how to bring Scar in?  Roy barked, “No?  Then leave her out of it.  Dammit, Hughes!  Okay, Okay, she’s an adorable flower.  Now get me the information on Scar.  Fine!”  
  
“What?” the Colonel yelled. “Why send him? But, I–yes, I’d heard about the audit. Fine, I call the br–I mean Edward in. Okay, okay, yes, I know. She’s absolutely enchanting. Always has been, always will be. I’m hanging up now. Yes, I am. Goodbye!” He threw the phone back in the cradle.  
  
“Sir, do you want to explain to the auditors why we need to requisition a new phone?”  
  
He glared at Riza. “Hughes says he’s know exactly where Scar is hiding.”  
  
“If anyone would know, it would be him. Still. The phone.”  
  
“And apparently Elysia is writing a new opera.”  
  
“She is brilliant, sir.”  
  
“Hawkeye?”  
  
“Yes, sir?”  
  
“If I ever get married–,”  
  
Riza blinked.  
  
“--and if I ever have children, and if I ever act as psychotic as that man, I give you permission to blow my brains out.”  
  
She didn’t even give it a second of thought. “Without hesitation, sir.”  
  
Havoc barked a laugh from his side of the room. “You? Have children, sir? Begging your pardon, but that would be a headline for the broadsheets.” He held up his hand as if holding a paper. “Firestarter Spawns Progeny. That’s rich.”  
  
“I’m glad you’re amused by the prospect,” the Colonel said. “That being the case, you can go amuse yourself in the records room and seek out any cases that I forgot to sign.”  
  
Riza wanted to laugh at the look on Havoc’s face. He would be in the records room for the rest of the day. Riza gathered up the completed folders and stood.  
  
The world suddenly pitched alarmingly to the left. Several of the folders on the top of her stack slid to the floor. She stood completely still, watching the papers spread and willing things to stop spinning long enough for her to catch her breath.  
  
“First Lieutenant!” The Colonel was up and headed toward her, as were the others in the room. “Are you all right?”  
  
She held up a hand. “I’m all right. I just had a battle with lunch this afternoon. Lunch won, I lost. I’m fine.”  
  
“Told everyone to stay away from the meat-like substances,” Havoc muttered.  
  
“And you were right,” Riza told him as she bent to pick up the folders. “These are for you, sir. There’s a dossier on a new technology – exploding rifle shells. I think you’ll find it quite interesting. I’ve also taken the liberty of ordering a box of the ammunition to sample.”  
  
The Colonel groaned.  
  
Relative peace remained while she listened to the Colonel’s pen scratch-scratching on paper.  Whether it was truly his signature or something else, she wouldn’t be certain.  
  
Just as she was about to check his progress through the piles a commotion entered the office that removed all though of peace and order from her mind.  
  
The first thing she saw was Alphonse, in all of his armored glory, holding his older brother by the collar of his red greatcoat.  Edward was swinging, flailing, and cursing the military at the top of his lungs.  
  
The Colonel had stopped scribbling, and just looked up with an arched eyebrow.  
  
Behind this hurricane of cloth and metal came Second Lieutenant Havoc, holding a haphazard pile of folders and looking as if he’d just taken a trip through the eye of said hurricane.  
  
“Colonel!” Edward shouted, flailing impotently.  “You need to have a better leash on your guard dogs!”  
  
“Me?” Havoc yelled back.  “Colonel, this… this… almost cut my damned head off with his damned… whatever the hell that is!”  
  
“Only after you almost shot my fucking head off!”  
  
“Fullmetal, language,” Riza tried injecting into the maelstrom. She took a second look at her comrade and noticed the thin trickle of blood going down the side of Havoc’s throat.  
  
“Well, who the hell goes barreling through the hallways like a greased piglet at a village fair?”  
  
_“Who-you-calling-so-small-he-could-use-a-sock-for-a-sleeping-bag!”_ _  
_  
“Bro-ther!”  
  
_“FULLMETAL!”_   The Colonel’s roar cut short the argument.  Havoc look sheepish; Edward looked mutinous.  
  
“In my office, both of you!” Mustang growled. “You too, Alphonse.”  
  
Riza watched as they were marched into the Colonel’s private office.  She suppressed a smile when she noticed that Roy looked like he wanted to grab Edward by his collar and march him into the office like a boy going to the headmaster’s office.  She also thanked the powers that were that she hadn’t been called into that meeting.  Especially after she heard Edward’s voice spouting more foul language than any person his age had any business knowing.  
  
She enjoyed a fine dinner that night, to make up for the afternoon. The only thing missing were the crumpets that her grandmother used to make for guests. She was enjoying her meal in peace as well; she’d left Roy in the office, working late to catch up once again. The man despised audits; he hated people nosing around his office, picking on things that didn’t deserve the time that was spent on it.  
  
As she rinsed the dishes in the sink, two hands grabbed her around the waist from behind. Riza chuckled. She’d heard him long ago, prowling across the carpet with all of the agility of a pack mule.  
  
“That was a very lame attempt at stealth, Colonel,” she said. She continued to straighten the kitchen table, even as she felt him bend his head to her neck.  
  
“Are you sure you’re all right?” He asked her. “I’ve never seen you sick a day in your life.”  
  
“I’m fine. Like I said, lunch won this afternoon. I had a good dinner to make up for it.” She twisted to look at him. “Are you hungry?”  
  
“Hm. Yes, but not for dinner.” His hands crept under the hem of her top and up. She laughed and kept working.  
  
His thumbs swirled around her nipples as he cupped her breasts. She gasped and arched back into him, dishes suddenly forgotten. “Don’t ever lick your fingers in our office like that ever again.” he said in her ear.  
  
“So, it was your impression of a strangled feline I he-heard...” Her skin was super-sensitive today; and she let him tease her until she trembled in his arms. One of his hands wandered down to lay flat on her stomach, holding her still, as the other tweaked and pulled at her, sending flashes of heat up and down her body. His teeth nipped at the ear closest to his lips, eliciting a moan.  
  
When had she become so easy? She thought to herself, coming from just that stimulus, her body quaking and shivering under his assault. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, but he wordlessly let her know wasn’t done with her yet. As she floated back down to earth, he moved her, climbing onto the table, pushing things out of his way. She stood there and stared, still fuzzy. It was an interesting thing, sex with this man. Clothes seemed to have a wonderful talent for disappearing with little effort. She would have to ask him one day how he did that.  
  
He grasped her and lifted.  
  
“What–? Oh, Roy, are you crazy? This table won’t take our weight...”  
  
“Trust me,” was all he said, as he pulled her into his lap. She knelt on either side of him, placing her hands on his shoulders, wondering. How he’d managed to get his trousers open and down was beyond her, especially as he was hooking his fingers in her waistband and tugging. She had to wriggle some to get them all the way down, then she kicked one leg and the other to make them go completely away. Then she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his shoulder as she straddled him, wondering what the hell he was about to do to her. This was certainly new.  
  
Sweet heaven... lifted her and slid into her, hot and slick and oh so deep. She couldn’t help but arch up, pulling him deeper and quivering at the moan he let loose into the quiet air. She grabbed his shirt collar with both hands and pressed her lips on his, letting his tongue do the same thing that he was doing to her. Up and down he lifted her until she picked up the rhythm. She put her hands on his shoulders and raised herself on her knees. Down she slipped over him, quiet but for low whimpers that punctuated his guttural gasps and nonsensical words. Riza watched him bang the back of his head against the wall of her kitchen in time with her movements, wincing in the back of her mind.  
  
The table began to groan under their weight. Roy blinked to clear his mind and lifted her up and off, leaving her panting at the abandonment. “Don’t you get tired of being right?” he gasped.  
  
“Never,” she came back, wishing he would get on with whatever he had planned.  
  
She should have known he wouldn’t let her down. Pulling them into another position, he gently pressed on her back, and she lowered herself until her forehead almost touched the table top. Hands flat on the table for support, she waited until he slid into her from behind… and her mind tried to slither right out of her ears at the sensation. Her top half lay on the table, but his hands were in no way keeping her there. Her curiosity and the delicious feeling of him touching her so deep kept her prone. There was a vague sense of powerless but, as she squirmed against him and made his breath catch – once, twice – she realized it was a great facade. Then, it became a race to see who would make who go over the edge first.  
  
His thrusts quickened the more she moved, his moans becoming growls, low and urgent. She whimpered once, then lost her breath again when he shoved deep and bent over her, nipping her neck lightly between his teeth. “Give it to me, Riza,” he pleaded breathlessly.  
  
“Not until you give it to me first,” she gritted out, pushing backward.  
  
He almost cried out, stilled for a moment, holding back. “You are a cruel, cruel woman.”  
  
“You knew that from the beginning.”   
  
“Oh, sweet… so sweet.”  
  
Riza looked at him again and gave him a wicked smiled. She was nothing near sweet and he knew it. And, she could tell by the way his eyes narrowed and the muscle in his jaw worked, that it would be over soon. All she needed to do was one more thing:  
  
“Colonel... please...”  
  
“Oh, unfair....” With a rumble from somewhere deep inside of him, he came. As deep as he was, she could feel the pulses, and they triggered her own climax.  
  
Panting, he leaned over her, resting his forehead on her back for a moment. “That was a low trick, Riza,” he gasped. “You don’t know how many times I pictured you saying that.”  
  
“Probably as many times as I have,” she chuckled as her heart slowed to normal pace.  
  
Roy laughed softly as he helped her up. “Have I corrupted you beyond repair?”  
  
“Probably. But I wouldn’t worry.” She looked around for her pants and slipped them on. “I think I can survive this type of corruption.”  
  
“You? Certainly.” Roy stretched, something Riza was becoming immensely fond of seeing, especially when the tails of his shirt rose up like that. “You did mention something about dinner, right?”  
  
After she slid the tank over her head she crossed her arms across her chest. “You are not sitting at my table in that condition.” She flushed. “In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever be sitting at this table to eat ever again. Take a shower.” She shook her head. “Don’t look at me like that. When you’re done, dinner is right over there,” she gestured at the stove top and turned to leave the kitchen. “You know where the plates are.”  
  
“Hey! Aren’t you gonna...” he stumbled to a halt when she turned back with hooded lids. “Stay and watch me eat?” he finished on a weak note.  
  
She knew what was on the tip of his tongue. Feed him her ass. “Humph. If I do that, you won’t get much eating done. I’m going to take a shower too.”  
“But...?” The light dawned. “Oh!”  
  
When he finally crawled in to curl around her, she was barely registered his weight in the bed. Her brain was twisted and sodden and called out for sleep long before he finished demolishing her kitchen – and using up all the water in her little shower.

 


	15. Lost in Motion, Locked Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a morning she would remember for the rest of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU because I play with the timeline. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories and plots. Some events in some episodes will be used out of context as artistic license. I try not to make the events I use too spoilerish, but if I can’t help it, you’ll get a warning. Based roughly on both the ’03 and FMA:B. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”
> 
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale.

 

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 14: Lost in Motion, Locked Together**

**Rating: PG**

**Soundtrack: _Secret Separation_ – The Fixx**

 

 

It was a morning she would remember for the rest of her life.

She woke up that morning with a head full of sand and a piercing headache. And alone. She frowned. That was a first. There was a note: _In early. Making sure all is ready for auditors. Hurry. Don’t want to face them alone._

As she showered and dressed and went through her itinerary for the day, her mind took an interesting journey in thought.

Riza was not one who had many friends. She had many colleagues who had held her in the highest regard. She had a few people who knew her when she was younger, before the military, who lived in her home town.

There was Roy, whose relationship with her had changed, and flowed and moved from one phase to another, much like the flame he held at his command.  Was he a friend?  Riza touched the back of her shoulder, the only spot she could reach on her back where the scar was thickest. 

Yes, she had friends.  And friends and friends.

But, there was one friend in particular, she expected a visit from every month without fail. She didn’t really cherish those visits, but it gave her an excuse to drink her tea with a little extra honey, add an extra blanket to her bed. And under most circumstances, those visits reinforced her belief that everything was good and right and straight in her world.

She would certainly have to check her calendar, but she was almost sure that her friend hadn’t visited her in quite some time. In fact, in the weeks since her life had... changed, that special visitor had missed not one, but, in the past few days, _two_ occasions to knock on her door.

She sat down on the foot of her rumpled bed to process that information more clearly. There was a saying that absence made the heart grow fonder. In this case, this absence did nothing more than make the fine hairs on the back of her neck raise on end.

A strange sensation tickled Riza at the base of her spine, chased her pulse through her body at breakneck speed, landed in the base of her throat and threatened to cut off the air she needed to breathe.

The last time she’d had this feeling was the time she was sighting down the barrel of a sniper’s rifle, intent on killing her first human. It left a nasty little taste in the back of her throat that she identified immediately as panic.

Riza Hawkeye was going to be late to work for the first time in her entire life. No, she corrected sternly, she could not be late for work. People would know something was terribly wrong. And there were those nosy enough not to rest until they found out what that something was. And if they found out–,

_Get yourself together, you idiot!_ She chastised. She forced the breath back into her lungs and straightened the jacket of her uniform. _Don’t jump to conclusions before you have facts in black and white in front of your nose. Have a cup of coffee and calm down._

Pushing those crazed emotions into a safe little corner of her mind, she plotted her plan of attack. Her instincts had never failed, and her instincts were telling her what was wrong. But, she still wanted tangible proof, perfect irrefutable facts. In order to get those facts, she would have to visit a doctor. A good doctor. One who knew how to keep their mouth shut and their records secure.

She halted in the living room and picked up the phone. If she saw any of the doctors in Eastern, the news would be flying around the headquarters in the time it took her to get back to her desk.

“First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye for Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” she told the operator.

He helped her get into this mess; he sure as hell was going to help her work her way through it to the other side.

Before he even had a chance to speak, Riza neutrally told him what she wanted. She hoped he wouldn’t ask any questions. But, given his place in the world, it was his job to jump to conclusions.

“Hawkeye, is everything...all right?”

“Probably,” she temporized. “But I need you to get on this as soon as possible, all right? And... do _not_ talk to the Colonel.  I will go through the proper channels and requisition the time.”

“But–,”

“No. Thank you, sir.”

She hung up before he could say anything further, and before she could slip further into panic. She rubbed her right temple, willing the sharp pain there away.

Her ride to work didn’t help her any; she wasn’t in a mood for polite talk and the silence only gave her more time to think, to count and to reach the very same conclusion over and over again.

Thirty-seven. It had been thirty-seven days since the night Roy had walked into her home. And while it was all overwhelming and all of that, and she might have been a virgin, she definitely wasn’t stupid. Two days after that first night, she’d sent Sergeant Dennison on a little errand for her. It was a dicey thing, and it took him a good week to get what she needed without anyone finding out it was for her. And when she’d gotten it, she’d taken it like clockwork. So, if she did her calculations right, there was eight or nine days when she was at risk.

Apparently, it had been the wrong eight or nine days.

Her instincts kicked in once again and told her that she wanted to cry. That was unacceptable. Understandable, possibly, but wholly unacceptable. Tear tracks would be detectable. Questions would be asked. Answers would not be forthcoming. Speculation would start. Rumors would fly.

She was doing it again, spiraling down a path she didn’t want to go. She cursed, shook herself, and took herself into the office.

Riza greeted the auditors – a sour looking bunch if she ever saw one – sat down and looked at the calendar on her desk. She stared at the date until her eyes crossed, then calmly reached down, unclipped her holster, and placed her sidearm on the top of the desk. The ominous sound of gunmetal meeting desk was a time-honored hint to everyone in her vicinity that she did not want to be bothered. Fortunate for those in the room familiar with her moods, she could sense the tacit agreement in the room from everyone to leave the First Lieutenant alone.

She gave the auditors a polite smile and led them to the records room. On the way back, she picked up the daily courier pack. Just a normal day, she told herself. It was just another normal day. As she sat there and reconciled the number of new transfers against the other requisitions required for such people, she re-counted the days in her head. Eight stupid little days. Such a small window of opportunity, but apparently someone had left it gaping open.

And, would you know? The great Flame Alchemist crawled right in and made himself right at home. Damn his prodigy ass.

Visceral reactions flipped from the need to bawl like an infant into an ugly anger she rarely allowed herself to yield to. She sat back and picked up her gun. She could practically hear every cursed male in the room turn on their peripheral vision, watching her every move. Ignoring them, she indulged herself for a moment. She snapped open the chamber and looked inside; empty. Opening her drawer, she pulled out a box of rounds (and it was a shame it wasn’t the new rounds) and slammed them on the desktop. Fuery and Breda jumped. Havoc shakily lit a cigarette. And the Colonel... He just gave her an arched eyebrow and an enigmatic stare.

_You bastard! I let you in for one night and you take control of my life and now look where I am and I should kill you where you stand._

She took three bullets and slid them in the chamber. One for Hughes, who convinced her that taking this risk was actually a good thing. One for the Colonel, because he was apparently a little too much of a prodigy in some things for his own good. And, one for herself. Because when her grandfather found out she’d indulged in behavior completely unbecoming an officer, he probably would want to kill her. She was going to save him the trouble.

_Couldn’t wait, could you, to put your dammed mark on me? Well, Colonel, how about I put a mark on you? A bullet right in your backside might teach you to show a little restraint!_   She really wouldn’t use the gun, but it gave no small amount of enjoyment to have someone else sweating in their boots right alongside her.

And she really shouldn’t be angry at the Colonel alone. She was an educated woman, after all. Science and biology told her that it took two people to do what they had done. And it wasn’t his fault that the timing had been utterly horrible. More likely, it was her fault for not waiting the stupid eight days for Dennison to bring her the medication.

“Ah...Hawkeye?”

And it would figure that he would want to have conversation with her now. “Sir?”

He was looking at the gun, and she could see that he wanted to ask, but instead he said. “The auditors would like to see the miscellaneous requisitions for the past three months.”

“Right away, sir.” _You randy bastard_ , she wanted to yell at him, but she kept it locked behind her teeth. She had tried to be careful. She just wasn’t lucky. And there was always the off chance that she was mistaken in her calculations.

Not bloody likely.

“First Lieutenant?”

She turned to Fuery, who flinched when he caught the residuals of cold fire in her eyes. “There’s a phone call for you...from Hughes, ma’am.”

She moved over and snatched up the phone, barking her name down the line. She hoped she’d blasted his ear off.

“You’ll have to come to Central,” he told her as a greeting.

“Fine.”

“Everything is ready for you, and – the records that are required are already here.” His tone of voice changed suddenly, indicative of someone entering his office.  “You will need to pick them up and bring them back to the Colonel,” he added.

“Of course I do,” she barely kept the bitterness out of her voice.

Hughes cleared his throat and resumed his softer, quieter tone. “Lieutenant, if there is anything I can do–,”

“No, sir.”

He sighed. “All right.” He gave her the date and time. “Sir, that’s early tomorrow morning. Impossible unless I leave now.”

“I know. Put Mustang on the phone.”

“Sir?”

“Trust me, Hawkeye. Put him on the phone.”

She was mightily tired of men telling her to “trust” them. She called the Colonel over and handed him the phone.

“Mustang.” The Colonel held her eyes as he spoke with Hughes. “Classified? Right now? Lieutenant Colonel, you realize I’m in the middle of a very intense audit and...” he sighed. “One of these days, Hughes...” he muttered into the phone. “Fine. I’ll release her now.” He shoved the phone back into Riza’s hands. “He wants you to pick up a classified dossier and personally deliver it here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t know why no one else can do it.”

“No idea, sir.”

He gave her a quick look. She forced herself back down to a reasonable tone of voice.

“Apparently, it’s too important to wait,” he grumbled.

“I would suspect so, if he needs me to deliver it.”

She could tell that he wanted to say more, but she didn’t even give him the opportunity. Speaking with him was very low on her list of priorities right now. High on that list was that she leave this room. Immediately. She turned back to the phone. “I’ll be leaving on the next train, Lieutenant Colonel, sir.”

“I’ll meet you at the station.” Hughes hesitated, then said in a much kinder note, “Hawkeye...”

“Good afternoon, sir.” She placed the phone in the cradle.

After finding the train schedule, she filled out the proper forms in triplicate, as called for, glad for the tedium of the bureaucracy. The Colonel, still finessing his way through the questions from the auditors, signed them without looking, and gave her reluctant permission to withdraw.

She made it out of the door and halfway down the hall when she heard his voice. She closed her eyes and turned back, her expression bland, her heart racing.

He looked around to make sure they were alone. “Lieutenant? Is something wrong? You don’t seem like yourself.”

And that concern in his voice changed everything coursing through her _again_ , this time into a twisting, churning feeling in the pit of her stomach. If she told him what was wrong, what would he do? “Just tired, Sir,” she equivocated quickly. She even managed to give him a half-smile. “I do believe I made a rather late night of it. All my fault to be sure.”

The Colonel smiled slowly. “Ah. I can understand that. Very well, then. Have a safe trip.” He took a step closer to her. “Hurry back,” his whispered in her ear.

Riza shivered despite herself. _Damn him_ , she thought. “I will, sir.” And she walked away as calmly as she could make herself move.

_Retreat_ , her mind insisted, and she knew it for the lie it was.

The train ride took far longer than she thought necessary. Especially since that little voice in the back of her head started screaming for coffee again.

Which left her in a fine state of irritation as they pulled up to the Central Station. She could see Hughes lounging against a pole, cleaning his glasses. Her eyes narrowed and she moved out of the train.

She thought it much to her credit that she made it into the back of the car with Maes. However, one look at that kind face was too much.

“This-is-your-fault!” she yelled, punctuating each word with a poke to his shoulder. “You know that? Your. Fault!”

Then, in quite an undignified manner, and not in keeping with her normal behavior, she burst into tears.

She felt Maes gather her into his arms, his body rigid with shock. Well, he would just have to get over it, she thought ungratefully. He probably had plenty of experience dealing with this kind of thing, with his safe little wife and safe little child. So he could just suck it up and let her thoroughly drench his shoulder and say absolutely not one word about it.

 


	16. I'll Bear One Precious Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riza flinched as if she’d been stuck. There was the word. Confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some OOC, because yeah, circumstances

 

 

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 15: I’ll Bear One Precious Scar**

**Rating: PG**

**Soundtrack: _Secret Separation_ – The Fixx**

 

Riza remembered the first time she’d been in a doctor’s office. She had fallen out of a tree at the age of four. The doctor almost took her arm off while setting the bone. It confirmed every misgiving she’d ever had about doctors and their ilk.

From that day to this, she avoided doctors whenever possible. She only took the physical exams the military doled out because they were required; her ducking of this duty would have put the Colonel’s shirking skills to shame.

So, as she sat on the examination table in a silly smock-like thing that was always opened in the back – though she was told to wear it backwards, so that her front was open and available to any poor sot who came through the door – she wondered whether she could reach that scary looking instrument of doom on the counter fast enough to pitch it before the doctor came within arm’s reach.

The doctor entered the room and smiled kindly at her. Riza knew their tricks and she wasn’t buying the kindness. “Is all this really necessary?” she asked, her arms crossed. “I want some tests done, not a full physical.”

“The Lieutenant Colonel apprised me of your situation,” the doctor, who called herself Winters, sat on a little stool. “If the tests that you request come out positive, then you will need a physical exam. I’ll need to determine your state of health in all phases of your–,”

“Fine, I understand.” Riza cut her off before she could say the dreaded word. It hadn’t been confirmed, so she didn’t want hear it.

“I’ve gone over your past medical records and you appear to be in good health. Can you tell me a little bit about how you’ve been feeling these past few weeks?”

“Tired,” Riza tendered. “Hungry. Bitchy.” She shrugged. “That last bit is rather normal, I’m told. The other two are not. I wouldn’t know what else to look for. Other than an unnatural desire for black coffee, I feel fine.”

Doctor Winters smiled. “Hmm. The appropriate medication?”

“Yes. Daily.”

“And you trust the source of this medication?”

Riza’s mouth twisted. “I did at one time. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“Well, even with proper protection, these things can happen. I’ve seen it enough times; it can be quite an alarming surprise.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“I understand. As I said, the Lieutenant Colonel informed me of your situation.”

Riza frowned. “How much did he tell you?”

Doctor Winters stared at her for so long, she began to wonder if she’d grown an extra head or...something. “I’ve worked with this Division for about ten years. In that time, I’ve treated many women in your situation. My priority is your health; discretion is my hallmark.” She flipped open the folder. “This is why I was chosen for you. I understand that you are in a highly volatile position that could be potentially career-threatening. This is all I know. I don’t know any names.”

Riza nodded, briefly relieved.  The feeling didn’t last.

“We’ll perform all the necessary tests. I have to tell you, if the tests come out positive, I will need to know more.”

That was when the tremble began, somewhere in the middle of her stomach.  She shivered at the chill. Examining rooms were always just shy of dammed freezing. The fact that they always left you half naked without telling you when you could get your clothes back was just shy of humiliating.

 The doctor had done her poking and prodding and, no, it wasn’t comfortable. Especially when it came to the blood-drawing. All through it, she screamed like a two year old inside. She was dammed if she’d admit to a needle phobia at this point in the game.

Thirty minutes later, she was still sitting in the silly robe, waiting on the examining table for the doctor to return. She finally came back, with that expressionless smile worn by doctors everywhere. “Well, First Lieutenant, all but your blood work has come back. That will take about a week, but based on the information we have, you are indeed pregnant.”

Riza flinched as if she’d been stuck. There was the word. Confirmed. It was out there in the air, a real thing, tangible and shattering.

“If my calculations are correct, and based on the information you’ve given me, I would put you somewhere between three and four, leaning toward the former. It was a close thing, somehow you slid under the wire.”

Riza looked at the doctor, unimpressed with her supposed feat. Doctor Winters cleared her throat. “Yes, well. Your blood work will give us a better idea of how far along you are.” She sat back on the stool and placed her hands in her lap. “Do you have any questions?”

“My options?” Riza asked through gritted teeth. She had to know, although she’d already made her decision.

“Options? Ah, yes.” The good doctor began to explain her so-called options in careful terms. Riza thought she could listen dispassionately while the woman told her the different ways she could rid herself of her _problem_ , but the mere thought turned her stomach in ways she hadn’t imagined possible. It confirmed her decision for her.  “Never mind, doctor. I know what I’m going to do.” She took a deep breath.

Doctor Winters gave her a keen look. “First Lieutenant – may I call you Riza?” At Riza’s nod, she continued. “Allow me to be frank. I understand your situation is very delicate. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes had to be very honest with me, so that I can give you the best care that I can. I understand that you may be very upset by this news.”

Upset would not be the way she would describe it, but as she had no other adjective to give what she was feeling, Riza listened.

“It isn’t common knowledge, but relationships between certain officers is a very common thing. Else, the Lieutenant Colonel would not have need for my skills.”

Riza blinked.

“There are a few women who are under my care in the same situation as you. They are in relationships with other officers – both subordinates and otherwise.”

Riza snorted. Hughes was sitting on this kind of conspiracy? Rich, very rich.

“There are plenty of women in the military who have chosen both paths in this situation. I assure you, whichever way you choose, it will be handled with the utmost discretion.”

“I’m...” Riza looked down at the floor, almost unable to continue. She couldn’t believe she was about to say it, but the words came out of her mouth nonetheless. “I’m...keeping...this child.”

The doctor nodded gently. “I know. I can always tell those who would rather give up their left arm than give up their child.” She smiled. “Now comes the uncomfortable part.”

Riza braced herself. “You have a care for the child’s father? This wasn’t a ... casual occurrence?”

Riza started, then nodded. “It was not casual.” Then, her throat closed up.

“The.... soldier involved. Was he a subordinate?”

Riza hesitated. How much could she tell this woman?

“I assure you, Riza, what you say will not go beyond these walls.” She placed a hand on Riza’s folder. “This folder will remain under lock and key for the duration. The Lieutenant Colonel does not want to see you come to harm.”

Riza sighed.

Doctor Winters nodded. “You’re in Eastern, right? I’m going to write a few names down. In the off chance that someone can hear what we are saying. I want you to point out the name for me.”

“Is this necessary?”

“There may be things in the father’s medical history that could impact your child. I will need to know. The only place that name will be written down is here, and this will be destroyed as soon as you tell me.”

Riza bit her lip, but nodded. She had to believe that Hughes wouldn’t send her to this woman if she couldn’t be trusted implicitly.

She looked down the list of names. Had to laugh at a majority of them. The name she sought was smack in the middle of the list, right above someone she didn’t know and right below the name _Kain Fuery_. That made her giggle hysterically inside of her mind. He was barely out of diapers. She ran her fingers over the writing that spelled out his name. _In for a half, in for a whole._ That was what he had said, right? She pointed.

The doctor’s only response was a small smile. “Brought to heel at last,” she murmured enigmatically, chuckling. “All right.” She wrote something down.

“I thought you said–,”

“I’ve written down the date for your next appointment.” She took the sheet with the names and shredded it. Then, closing the pad, stood. “You can get dressed. I’ll have a talk with Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, and we can decide how best to go from here.” She patted Riza’s knee. “Don’t worry. Both of you will be protected.”

And then Riza was alone. Only then did she allow the trembling inside of her to come to the surface. With shaky hands, she barely managed to find the right buttons for the right buttonholes, dressed, and left the examination room.

She was _pregnant_. Now she could say the word, if only to herself.  She tried it on again.  “Pregnant,” she murmured. Her brain, curiously blank, had shut down from the overload of emotions not normally allowed free reign inside her head and was currently just there inside her, moaning about coffee.

Hughes met her halfway to his office. He looked at her warily, and she waved her hand. “No more attacks,” she muttered. “And I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and guided her back to his office. “No need. I supposed I would have had a meltdown had I been in your shoes.”

In his office, she sat in the chair and willed herself to feel something, something besides the numb feeling that made her limbs feel heavy.

“This does complicate matters some,” Hughes said, stating the obvious. She glared at him for a moment. “But it doesn’t make things impossible.”

“Oh? And how do you think I’m going to hide the fact that in a few months I’ll be as big as a house?”

Hughes shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Of course you won’t be able to hide that.” He distractedly tapped a folder on his desk. “I hate to have to ask you to trust me, once again, considering–,”

“Considering.”

“But, I do have a few ideas about how to handle this. I just need to work them out in my head first.” He picked up his phone and called for a driver. “The driver will take you to my home. You go and get some rest.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“No, you don’t.” He grinned. “You’re under orders, First Lieutenant. I need you here for one more day. That dossier isn’t ready yet, and only you can bring it back to Eastern for me.” He leaned forward. “Go. Let Gracia spoil you for the rest of the day. It will make her day and you need to wrap your mind around this idea before you jump back into that office. You can go back in the morning.”

Riza nodded. Then, tentatively, she asked. “Are you sure? That this won’t cause problems?”

“I wouldn’t have brought the two of you together if I thought that it would impact the original plan. I’m sure.” He leaned back in his chair and patted a small filing cabinet. “You see this? Full of files just like yours. Some in worse shape than you.” He nodded.

Riza shook her head. “I can’t believe that with all of the investigations and covert operations that you are in charge of, that you are sitting on this kind of thing.”

“Keeps me from being weighed down by all of the other, worse conspiracies out there.” She watched him get lost in his thoughts for a second, then watched him make the trip back to her. It was truly an interesting thing to see that formidable mind working behind the green eyes. “There are many in the ranks who find this particular regulation a waste of the paper it was written on. Unfortunately, those in power still stand behind it. A way to keep control of the rank and file.”

“And you think it will change?”

Hughes gave her a knowing smile. “Don’t you?”

She caught the meaning behind that. And was forced to smile despite herself. “It’ll probably be the first regulation changed.”

“If he didn’t, he’d be a hypocrite.”

Riza bit her lip. “Maes...what do you think he’ll say?” She hated the vulnerability in her voice, but she hadn’t managed to batter it back yet. “You seem to know everything. And I think you know him better than almost anyone. What is he going to do when he finds out?”

Hughes told her softly. “Don’t underestimate the man. You should know better than anyone that what’s on the outside is not all that is on the inside.”

Riza nodded. “I do. It’s just...” she shrugged.

“Can’t put it into words, can you?”

She shook her head, then stood. “I’m not myself anymore. If I can’t figure out what I’m feeling, how do you suppose I can even guess at how he’ll feel?” She sighed. “I suppose eventually, I’ll find words. Thank you for the hospitality, Maes. I think I’ll take you up on it.”

“You have no choice, you’re under orders.”

Night found her in a strange bed, in borrowed pajamas, wrapped around someone else’s pillow. Strangely enough, she felt more peaceful here than she had anywhere else in the past few days. A clean slate, as it were. For a while, even a short few hours, she gave up trying to think and let herself relax. Sleep found her early and claimed her quickly.

 


	17. We Are Matching Spark and Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From her lofty height of thirteen going on fourteen, there was no way she could believe that this little... bean could be only one year younger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking a little trip back in time for this little interlude. Young!Royai

 

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 16: We are Matching Spark and Flame**

**Rating: PG**

**Soundtrack: _Secret Separation_ – The Fixx**

 

_(1897 – the Hawkeye Estate)_

Riza peeked around the door of the kitchen and down the long, poorly-lit hallway to see if her father was going to emerge from his cave at the end to at least help her greet the guests currently ringing the doorbell. The sound of the chime echoed around and through the unused rooms in the family estate and made her back teeth vibrate.  He would have had to be deaf not to hear it.

Darkness and silence were her answer and she sighed, Katherine, who was pulling a tray of mini-tarts out of the oven. 

“You want me to get that, honey?” the older girl asked, putting her hands behind her to remove her cooking apron. For all the time they spent talking and acting more like sisters, Riza sometimes forgot that she was actually a housemaid.

Riza gave her a quick smile.  “Please?  I think this is the one Father is supposed to be taking to apprentice.”

“Boy or girl?”

Riza rolled her eyes.  “Father wouldn’t be bothered with a mere female for an apprentice.”

“Poor lad.  What’d he do to deserve that honor?”

Riza chuckled.  “He actually asked for it.  I’ll let Father know they’re here.”

“Good luck with that.”

Riza snorted as she moved down the hall, reaching up to turn on more sconces to brighten the place up.  Just because the ledger books said there were more debits than credits didn’t mean they couldn’t at least be civilized when welcoming company. No, they were no longer the height of society, but she’d be damned if she let anyone think that they were living in a cave on the side of mountain with goats and sheep.  As she closed in on the door to her father study the question highest in her mind was whether her father would peel her ears back for interrupting him from his _great work_.

She took a quick peek behind her to see if she could catch a glimpse of the arrivals, and got a general impression of a deep red dress and a small, dark shadow.  _Red?_ Well, that certainly wasn’t any kind of lady-like color to be wearing.  Interesting.

Riza shook herself and finished her journey to the cavern of doom that was more commonly called her father’s study. Steeling herself, she raised a hand and gave a perfunctory knock before opening the door.  “Father--,”

“Are they here?” her father grated out as she stepped through the door and shut it behind her. As usual, she had to practically squint to see his shadowy form, perched like a dark bird in a dismal aviary in his wing-back chair in front of the large picture window.  He gave her a cursory glance with his sharp, dark eyes and went back to his book.  Riza eyed the room to make sure it wasn’t the usual disaster area she had come to know and hate. She would hate to step on any of his _precious_ notes and have to hear about it for the rest of her life.

In the middle of the floor was a large cleared space with an array drawing in the middle.  A lamp sat beside it, as if her father had sat on the floor to scrawl it out.  Within the circle she saw two triangles, one inverted and overlapping the other.  _Air and Earth,_ she thought, remembering the little her father had tossed her in the way of alchemical knowledge.  In the middle of the diamond created by the overlap she saw a smaller triangle.  She furrowed her brow, trying to remember… oh, yes, it was fire.  Knowing her father ways, she could see this array was incomplete; she saw where he’d scrubbed out portions at the top and where he’d started to draw something on the outside of the framing circle.

“Well?” her father asked again, slicing through her observation like a knife through butter.

She raised her eyes to her father.  One blink, a passive expression and, “Yes, your new apprentice is here with his guardian.” Riza said simply and waited.  Words between them were handled like a precious commodity, something they had very little of and very little time to nurture.

“Fine.  I’ll be out in a few moments.” Berthold placed a finger on a spot in his book and reached for the bookmark on the arm of the chair.  “I hope this lad is worth my time.  Don’t have time to molly-coddle another man’s child.”

Riza turned to leave.

“I expect you back in the sitting room in fifteen minutes with something to serve them. That should be long enough for them to sit there and be sure that they want to continue on this path of insanity. I’m sure you had that idiot Katherine let them in.  Send her slovenly ass back to the damned kitchen.” His eyes raked her up and down, taking in the simple dress, apron and slightly unkempt ponytail. “And go put on some respectable clothes. You want people to think you’re some stupid fishwife?”

Riza flinched and shut the door on the rest of his muttering.  She looked back down the hallway just in time to see Katherine moving toward the kitchen.  Fishwife, indeed.  Like he looked like anything less than grim Death waiting to snatch up poor souls to meet his quota.  She gave herself a little shake ( _patience and respect, Riza_ ) and gave a small whistle, and waited until Katherine met her at the bottom of the stairway.

“I have to serve them,” Riza whispered.  “Father wants you ‘back in the damned kitchen’.”

Katherine rolled her eyes.  “He’s a real piece of work.” she shook her head. 

“I know.” Riza headed toward the stairway.  “What do they look like?” she asked as Katherine climbed the stairs with her. 

“Well, they are certainly interesting,” Kate said.  “The woman – the guardian you told me about?  I’ve never seen a redder shade of lipstick in my life!  And she smells like fancy perfume and pipe tobacco.  They’re definitely city folk.”

“And Father’s student?”

Katherine smirked, the gesture making her freckles dance across her nose.  “All knees and elbows and pretty manners,” she answered.  “The shine on his shoes will blind you.  Don’t think either of them have spent a day in the country in their whole lives.  You’ll have fun dealing with that one.”  She sat on the bed and watched while Riza whipped her second best dress out of the closet.  “From the cut of her dress though, I shudder to think where they’ve been spending their days.”

Riza shimmied out of her clothes and threw the dress over her head.  “What do you mean?” she asked when she could speak clearly.

“There’s just something… scandalous about her.  I mean… _she has silk stockings with seams up the back!_ ”

Riza froze in the process of brushing out her hair.  “Seams?  You mean like…”

“Those ladies you read about in those novels of yours. The ones that always steal the heroine’s true love away.”

Riza’s jaw took a decidedly un-ladylike trip towards the floor for a moment, before she pulled herself together and remember she was on a time-clock.  “Dear god.  Help me with these buttons.  I’ve got only ten minutes to get to the sitting room with a tray.  Really? Seams?”

“And she crosses her leg at the knees.”

“Goodness, gracious.”

She arranged the heirloom four teacups on the tray next to the small tarts she’d pulled out of the oven. Before she left the kitchen she caught a glance out of the window. The bright, midday sunshine bounced off the glass and cast happy shadows throughout the kitchen.  Though the air was relatively cool in the house, she was sure that it was still and less than comfortable outside, especially for city folk who had no idea how to dress for summer in the countryside.

She halted, looking at the tray speculatively.  A little smirk crossed her lips and she got rid of three of the teacups and reached up into the cabinet for glass tumblers instead.  Into the icebox and out with a pitcher of what she liked to call the elixir of the countryside.  She filled the glasses with the ice cold lemonade and placed a napkin beneath each glass.  Let her father complain, but she was taught to make sure guests were comfortable before their coming doom.

Of course her father noticed, but he said nothing as she allowed him to take his teacup from the tray.  Moving with all of the grace she’d been taught in Miss Bismarck’s Girls School – the school that put more debits than credits in the household ledger – she offered the glasses, first to Miss… she scrabbled to remember the name from the letters… Mustang, then to the boy seated beside her.

And waited for her father to begin his interrogation while she placed the tray on the table between them.

As she sat on the small chair next to her father she watched as the Mustangs took a sip.  Of course the first to react was the woman, who gave a broad smile and a wink to Riza. Riza instantly liked her, despite the scandalous stockings and the unbelievable lipstick.

“I haven’t tasted lemonade like this since I was a little girl!” she said.  “And it is the perfect thing for a hot summer day like this.”

Riza smiled and looked at her lap, “I’m glad you like it,” she said softly, using all of her will not to give her father a sideways glance.  She glanced up to get her first look at the boy who would be her father’s first (and only, if Berthold had anything to say about it) alchemy student.

Katherine had been right; the shine on the boy’s shoes would have powered the entire house for a month.  Though he actually wore long pants, she couldn’t believe he was more than ten or eleven years old.  _Did alchemy students really start so young?_ Inky black hair, combed and perfectly in place.  That would go the way of all things citified after a week here.  Pale skin and supposedly serious dark eyes, that didn’t look quite Amestrian.  The skin would probably burn and peel and the eyes… well, she would puzzle that out later.

Her father actually barked the question that was on the tip of her tongue.  “How old are you, boy?  I don’t have time to be a nursemaid to infants around here.”

The boy flinched slightly, but then settled himself, almost like a startled little black bird.  “I’m twelve, sir. Almost thirteen. Sir.”

Riza blinked.  If he was twelve then she was the Fuhrer’s little sister. In the back of her mind where she kept her dirty words she said, _my ass you’re twelve._ From her lofty height of thirteen going on fourteen, there was no way she could believe that this little... bean could be only one year younger than she was.

Berthold gave a quick croak of a laugh.  “ _Twelve you say?_ Twelve?  Good god, boy, you don’t look a minute over ten.  Don’t they feed you imps out there in the city?”

Riza could see the boys lips press together tightly, his eyes narrow, and his face become as red as a fireplace poker in use.  Away went the tiny blackbird; now he looked like an angry little tea-kettle ready to explode. Inside her head she did a little dance.  She was sure to be entertained for a good while if her father took this one in.

The woman put a light hand on the boy’s knee and smiled at Riza’s father.  “He is definitely twelve,” she said.  “The Mustangs aren’t known to be a family of giants,” she said good-naturedly, far more gracious than the boy looked like he wanted to be.  His eyeballs looked like they were ready to boil out of the sockets and if she didn’t know better, she would have sworn she’d seen steam escape from his ears.

Berthold waved a hand.  “If you say so.” He tried to stare the boy down, and to the boy’s credit, he held his shaky ground.  Riza’s father gave a little laugh and nodded.  “You’ll do, for now.  I’ll take him on.”  He stood, smoothed down his jacket and offered his hand to the lady.  “I’m going to let my daughter take care of the details and get the boy settled.  If you’ll excuse me, I have some important research to finish.”  He threw a look at his daughter, promising something dire if she didn’t comport herself properly.

_As if she were raised in a barn._ Riza ignored the look and instead watched the boy take a sip of his lemonade.  She waited, wondering if he had even tasted real, hand-made lemonade in his life. 

 

###

 

Of course he’d seen lemonade before, but the kind he’d seen didn’t look like this, with slices of real lemons floating in it, with lemon pulp and so cold the glass was dripping with condensation.

He looked across at the other young person in the room.  She hadn’t acknowledge him beyond giving him the glass of icy liquid that shone like the sunshine.  She was wearing tiny little blue slippers, a fancy dress that was a couple shades darker than her bright, shiny hair, and her eyes were big and brown. He guessed she was pretty enough, though the freckles would have been troublesome in his Aunt’s house.  She half-reminded him of the girls that turned up their lip at him when they were allowed to come to The Grumman Academy for Boys for their quarterly mixers. _Those_ bubble-headed girls didn’t know he could dance circles around the other goofs in his glass, could read the poetry out of the latest dime novels that would make them weep, and had even kissed a girl – once behind the player piano when Aunt Chris wasn’t looking. 

Oh, yes, the girl.  He waited for the expected reaction from her and was surprised when she simply looked at him curiously, taking in every part of him as if he were some kind of puzzle she needed to put together.

Aunt Chris would have said that the girl had more between her ears than hot air and chocolate bon-bons.  He was relieved.  Dealing with a bubble head was not his ideal way to spend his apprenticeship.

Mr. Hawkeye’s voice startled him when he asked how old Roy was, because he hadn’t been listening to the adults talking about him.  He politely answered that he was twelve, because of course he was twelve, anyone could see he was twelve and why did people keep asking him this dumb question?

The girl blinked and tightened her lips.  She had that look he knew so well that said _my ass you’re twelve._   The disbelieving spark in her eyes started to heat up something in the back of his brain.  _Always._   _Always_ people gave him the greasy side-eye when he told them his age.  What was so hard about believing that he was past short pants and ready to take his place in the world as an almost-man?  He was _here,_ wasn’t he, ready to become a true alchemist in his own right. No little kids he knew could do that.

“Twelve?” Mr. Hawkeye practically shouted.  “Boy, you don’t look a minute over ten.  Don’t they feed you out there in the city?”

And then there was a tiny little flame there, creeping from the back of his brain and beginning to burn out all of the good manners and common sense he’d been taught by his Aunt. _Who was he calling so short that he had to stand on a crate to see his shadow?_

Aunt Chris saved him from blowing his top in the nick of time.  If she hadn’t put her hand on his knee when she did, he would have shown the old man who was so miniscule he could dodge between raindrops.

Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw it.  He almost thought he’d been fooled by a trick of light but he turned his head slightly and confirmed his suspicions.

She smiled.  Granted, it was only a slight upturn of the corner of her mouth, but it was there, the girl smiled, and it flew all the way up her face into her eyes.  It wasn’t a laughter smile, though, it was something else he couldn’t put his finger on.  To cover his surprise, he tipped up his glass and took a sip.

It was like drinking liquid gold. It reminded him of a day long before, when he was barely young enough to remember much beside the shape of the kneecaps of people around him.  He’d been standing on a train platform, feeling a little confused and lost, and the special lady that had been sitting beside him with the bright lipstick and the cigarette handed him a little cup of something she said would ‘chase those clouds away’.

It took a lot for him not to take a second taste and gulping the whole glass in one swallow.  But he had no wish to make his Aunt Chris look like a bad raiser of children, so he clutched the glass and waited to be spoken to like he’d been taught.

And wondered what the girl’s voice sounded like.

 


	18. With Just One Whisper You Tell Me Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He read the thing a couple times, then quietly shut the folder. He had no words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say AU, I mean it. Straight off the rails. And Maes Hughes fans may squee a bit.

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 17: With Just One Whisper, You Tell Me Everything**

**Rating: PG**

**Soundtrack: _When Your Eyes Say It – Britney Spears_**

 

 

The phone rang, jangling Roy’s already frayed nerves. He opened one frazzled eye and peered at the clock, then tumbled out of bed and padded into Riza’s living room.

Hayate gave him a half-hearted bark as he croaked a sorry excuse for a greeting into the phone.

“You know, one of these days I’m going to finally tell everyone what a romantic sap you really are.”

“Oh, God. You’re calling here at three in the morning?” Roy tried to yell, but his head felt as if it were going to explode. The questions from the auditors, as well as Riza’s bad humor and absence left him feeling as if he’d been run over by a truck.

“I wouldn’t have bothered if it wasn’t important.”

“Well, it better be good.”

“You’re needed here, Roy.”

“Maes, what?” Roy tried to clear the sleep-sand from his head, but that just made the pain worse. “Wait. How did you know to call me here?”

“Please. You weren’t home. Where else would you be?” Roy could hear Maes’ muffled voice talking to someone in the background, then he came back. “I just – I’ve already had my share of this. It’s your turn now. I need you here as soon as you can get on a train.”

Roy’s brain finally kicked in when he heard the strained flavor in Maes’ voice. “What’s going on? Is it Scar?”

“No, you obsessed idiot. Just....it’s Riza, and–,”

He didn’t need to hear any more. He was dressed and calling for Dennison within the hour. Then he thought about it and called Hughes back.

“It’s three in the morning and this better–,”

Roy yelled over Maes’ voice. “How am I going to explain not being there for the auditors tomorrow?”

“Roy?” Hughes mumbled. “Spastic...I got it covered.”

“Should have known.” He threw the phone down, then winced, mentally apologizing to Riza and protectors of phones everywhere.

He had to wait one hour for a regular train, but that hardly signified. What had happened to Riza in Central that Maes had to call him at an obscene hour? While he waited, he asked the sleepy Dennison a question.

“Sergeant, did you notice anything...out of the ordinary with the First Lieutenant?”

Dennison yawned. “No, sir. She was rather quiet, but that was all.”

“Hmm.” He bent his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the headache to go away.

The sun was just rising as he made it to Central. He’d thought about going to Maes’ house, but thought it best not to disturb the wife and child. The last thing he wanted to hear this morning were the piercing tones of a four year old child. Regardless of how enchanting said child was.

He realized his decision was wise when he saw Maes asleep across his desk. He sat down and considered his options for a moment. Then he held up a hand – without glove – and snapped.

Maes’ glasses shot three feet into the air before he caught them. That was a new record. It was a wonderful thing to behold. Glasses skewed, he looked across his desk at Roy’s waving hand with a wild-eyed and crazed glare. “Evil bastard.”

“Good morning to you to, sunshine.” He grinned with all of his teeth as he gave time for his friend to collect himself. “Do you need to go and change your trousers?”

“I wish I knew the kind of alchemy that would seal your mouth shut.”

“There’s only one thing that can shut my mouth. She’s about oh-so-high with blond hair, brown eyes and this crazy little mole on her–,”

“Okay, that’s just a bit too much information, thanks!” Maes shuddered. “It’s like hearing you talk about my sister!”

Roy laughed. He thought it smart if he kept his real worry to himself for a moment longer. He sat back and crossed his arms behind his head. “So, what am I doing out here all bright eyed at this time of the morning?”

Maes slid a folder across his desk. “We’ll get to that in a moment. I need you to review this first.”

He took a moment and looked through the file, thoroughly confused and wondering why the name sounded familiar. “All right, Maes. I came here because you told me that something was wrong with Riza, and you have me staring at a folder about some girl named...” His tongue scrambled to a halt inside of his mouth as the name became blindingly familiar.

“Alchemical research, my ass,” Maes was saying. “You forget I read the body of your work. I know your little codes.” He crossed his arms and grinned.

“Fucking snoop.”

“I may not be a State Alchemist, but I do know the difference between a code word for lithium and a full-on babble about the great love of your life.” He put a finger on his chin. “Or is that lust of your life. I’m still not sure about that.”

“But–why? How did–?”

“Oh, come on, Roy! Couldn’t you have been less obvious? I noted the dates of the entries. And, seriously, Lisa Falcon?” Maes shook his head, still laughing. “You might as well have drawn a heart with your initials in the middle.”

“I was younger then.”

“Yeah, but... _we are matching spark and flame_?” Maes shuddered in mock horror. “I’m still not sure if I want to catch your cooties.”

“Now that you are through humiliating me, you can tell me why _this_ name is on this file?”

“Not humiliating you, Roy,” Maes said, serious now. “Just reminding you of a few things before you read this folder completely.”

Roy did as he was told. He started from the back. He flipped past the first page of vital statistics until Maes told him to go back. So he read those with a more careful eye. And made some interesting discoveries. “Her middle name is Flora?”

That got a chuckle from his friend. “Indeed. Though, I’m sure it would be hazardous to your health to mention that to her.”

“This is...this is _Riza’s_ folder.”

“Wow! Fantastic deduction.”

Roy growled.  “Why is this...other name on it?”

“Well, I’d hate to have someone find this in my office with her real name all over it.”

“Why? These are just...” he flipped through a few more pages. “Medical records?” He blinked. “Medical records?” He slapped the folder on the desk. “Why medical records? Is she hurt? Is she sick? Dammit, Maes, why don’t you stop playing tell me?”

“Would you calm yourself a moment and read? She’s not hurt, nor is she sick.  Sick of you perhaps for the moment, but…”

Roy let out a frustrated breath and snatched the folder back. He glared at his friend as he opened it, then looked down. The top page was a record of a physical exam that had taken place the day before. If she needed a physical, why didn’t she just take it at Eastern? As he read the details, a cold, prickly feeling grabbed him by the back of his neck.

He read the thing a couple times, then quietly shut the folder. He had no words. And even if he had words, with his heart sitting in his throat, he doubted he could have spoken them anyway.

“Roy?” Maes leaned forward. “Are you all right in there?”

Roy saw the hand waving in front of his face. He blinked to clear his vision and stared at his friend. “She’s...”

“Yes.”

“I thought – I saw Dennison bring her–,”

“Apparently it was faulty. Or late.  I’m never sure about the mysteries of these things.”

“Damn.”

“Yes.”

He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Riza is....”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s...”

“I do believe we covered this.”

He looked at his friend. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because she just got confirmation yesterday? I told her to stay here an extra day, to ... get used to the idea.”

“She doesn’t know I’m here.”

“No. But, she needs you, Roy,” Maes said earnestly. “She’s trying to process her own feelings, but is worrying over how you’ll react and that keeps getting in the way. And, I t _hink_ she’s afraid to tell you.”

Roy blinked. “Afraid?” He frowned. “Yesterday, she threatened to shoot me between the eyes with armor piercing rounds.” He blinked in sudden realization.  “And that was why.”

“She’s at my house. Go to her. Let her know this is all right.”

Roy gave Maes a keen look. “How do you know that this is all right?”

Maes’ mouth turned up at the corner. “We are matching spark and flame.” He quoted from Roy’s own journal again. “Did you ever change your mind about that?”

Roy looked down at his hands. “No,” he said quietly. He looked up with narrowed eyes. “You’re too good at this, you know.”

“That’s why I have the job and you don’t.”

“You have this job because you have talents only few people know about.” Roy decided to get a little back of his own. “You know, if you’d passed the exam, I do believe they would have called you the Son-of-a-bitch Busy Body Alchemist.”

He was gratified by the flush that crept up Maes’ cheeks. He was made even happier by the slow smile that followed it. “Let’s just keep that to ourselves for now, okay? I didn’t take that exam for a reason.”

“I know. And I thank you for that.” Roy stood, and headed for the door. He opened it and stopped, looking back. “And for this.”

“She rescued you. Now it’s your turn.”

He sat in the Hughes’ kitchen and spent a few moments thinking about his next moves. Finally, after he’d plotted the steps following this actual conversation, Gracia brought him a tall glass and he stood and headed out of the back door and into the small yard behind the townhome.

He stood in the tiny back stair stoop for a while and just watched her, sitting against the big tree, with a tray filled with a sandwich and a tall glass of lemonade, head bent over the task in her hands. He smiled crookedly. She was cleaning her gun. He watched her meticulous motions, knowing the task for what it was. Whenever she needed to think on a subject, she would clean her gun. It alarmed almost everyone else who watched her. But he got it. Cleaning was fine; loading it was something else.

He took his courage in hand and headed across the yard. She didn’t even register his movement toward her. He managed to stand in front of her for a second, until she realized that the shadow falling over her was a human. She froze in the process of checking the hammer, then looked up.

He showed her his glass. “Gracia makes the second best lemonade I have ever tasted,” he said in what he hoped sounded like an easy voice. He thought that the last time he’d felt this nervous, he’d been asked to sit in a certain chair, to test his fitness to carry a certain watch.

He watched her think about it, then she calmly placed the gun down and took the glass. “I drank a full pitcher of it about an hour ago. Along with a pot of coffee.”

He sat beside her, resting his back against the tree and looking back toward the house. “You don’t like coffee,” he offered.

He felt her shift a bit, but kept his eyes focused on the horizon in front of him. “What did Maes tell you?”

“That you needed me.” He turned finally at looked at her profile, touched by the midday sunlight. It bounced off her hair, making it look like molten gold. “You want to tell me why?”

They had always spoken plainly when it came to important matters. From the first time she’d shown him his room at the Hawkeye estate until the day she looked for him on the sands of Ishbal, until the day she opened her door – and finally her heart – to him, they never minced words when the stakes were high.

She bowed her head. Her hair obscured her face. He would have given his left hand to have been able to see it. “I don’t know how,” she whispered.

“Since when have you not known how to talk to me?” He pulled up his knees and rested his arms on them, leaving his hands hanging between his legs.

“Since yesterday.”

“Well...what happened yesterday, Riza?”

There was a heavy silence. He waited patiently.

“I didn’t plan this. I want you to know that.”

Roy’s eyebrow arched. “All right...”

From the corner of his eye, he watched the struggle fight itself out inside of her. He wanted to help her, wanted to let her know that he already knew, but he realized that she had to tell him. Only then could they move on to the better parts of this situation. He did move closer, and slowly put an arm around her waist, pulling her a bit closer. She allowed herself to shift and move so that she was seated between his legs, her back pressed to his front, his back held stable by the strong tree. He took in the scent of her hair and waited.

“I’m...scared, Roy.”

At that, he realized that there were no more questions about whether he could deal with this. Instinct kicked in; he wrapped both arms around her middle like a protection array. “This from you?  Scared of what?”

“This...changes everything.” She bowed her head again, ran her hand through the grass. “The ramifications…”

“Riza. Just tell me.”

“I’m...p-pregnant.”

He held his self from flinching with all of the will he had. He figured that most men took that word for a challenge to their ability to control a relationship. The word sounded like a slap heard round the yard. It was down right, damned disconcerting.

His hand flattened over her midsection. “And how does that change anything?”

Her head flung up and she turned to look at him. “Did you hear me? I said I’m _pregnant_. I’m going to have a baby. A little one of _you_.”

He smiled where she couldn’t see it. _A little one of me._ She didn’t know it yet, but she was going to be fine. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes. And I heard you fine. How does that change anything between us?”

She cursed and looked away from him again. “Roy, don’t you get it? The game has changed… again.  We’re bound to each other now.” He felt the deep, deep trembling in her body, and began to slowly stroke her stomach, hoping to still it. She tried again. “There’s something that binds us irrevocably together...whether we want it or not.”

Roy sighed in relief. That was easy to answer. “Riza. We’ve been bound together since the day you tossed my shiny new shoes in a mud puddle and told me to get over myself all those years ago.”

She looked at him cautiously.

He tried again. “I’m not going anywhere, Riza.”

She allowed that with a nod.

“And this doesn’t change my plans.” He squeezed her gently. “In fact, it gives me a better reason to reach the top.”

“A better reason?”

“Now I have a better incentive to change things. I refuse to let any child of _mine_ to grow up in a world like this.”

The more he spoke, the more he felt her relax. He refused to let her know how nervous he was about the prospect of being a father. Not yet. Not while she needed to be sure that her decision to have it was all right with him. He leaned his head back and looked up through the branches of the tree at the mid-morning sky. “Now, we just have to figure out how we’re going to carry this out.”

Her voice had gained some of its usual strength. “I’ll have a lot of explaining to do. A lot of lying. I hate lying.”

“You won’t have to lie. It’s a simple thing to omit certain details. People don’t need to know everything. Plenty of women in the military have babies. And though it’s not the usual thing, it’s their prerogative not to name the father.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“That much I know is true. And as far as you are concerned, I doubt anyone at Eastern would _dare_ to give you the side-eye. Your integrity is legendary.”

She suddenly looked him in the eye. “You aren’t keeping details from me, are you?”

He flushed. She was too good. “Well, I do have one small confession to make.”

She looked at him expectantly.

“I already knew.” He held her tight when she tensed. “Maes told me, because he wanted to make sure I wouldn’t hurt you with my reaction.” He deflected the brewing irritation in her eyes by saying, “He knows me; he knows you. He cares.”

“Humph.” He looked and saw the beginning of that smile he was becoming all too familiar with. “A brother. I’ve heard that you can torture them with impunity.”

Roy chuckled, relieved. “I can only tell you that torture by sisters is highly overrated.”

She laughed finally, then looked at him. “You sure about this?”

“Are you?”

She was silent for a long while. Then she nodded. “It’s crazy. Crazier than everything we’ve done before. But I’m sure.” She took a sip of the lemonade. “Do we have to go back today?”

Roy sighed. “Havoc is there. I don’t really relish trying to get the scuffs from his boots off of the top of my desk again. Not yet.”

Riza nodded. “Good,” she whispered.

Roy rested his chin on the top of her head.  Yes. It was good.

 


	19. Nothing in the World Like a Big Eyed Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A problem?” Maes leaned forward. Problems were his bread and water. The meaning of his life in this man’s army was to solve problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is enjoying the story! Starting today, I'll be updating weekly on Fridays.

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 18: Nothing in the World Like a Big Eyed Girl**

**Rating: PG**

**Soundtrack: _Chantilly Lace – The Big Bopper_**

 

The courier delivered a letter, postmarked Eastern, the writing in a lazy, but controlled scrawl.  Maes turned the envelope over to open it and noted that the seal had already been broken. _Of course it had been._ Maes chuckled and shook his head.

_Things are duller than dull around here.  Been trying to chat up a new girl, but I’m having a bit of trouble.  Can you imagine?  Me? Having a hard time with a girl? Perish the thought._

“This guy really needs to find himself a good girl to settle down with,” he said for the benefit of the courier.  He thanked the young man who’d brought the mail and spun around in his chair, casually reading more:

_Anyway, the cute little blonde. Evelyn’s her name. Nice girl; sweet, petite, but a little headstrong. Think she’s playing hard to get. Heard she went on a date last night with a mutual friend, Andrew Kemmins. Word is it was FUBAR. Heard the poor girl’s all broken up about it and she’s gone to the country to lick her wounds. Wish I could comfort her, but she took Jackie with her, and you know how that one is. Wouldn’t give me the time of day. They’ve been thick as thieves lately; not sure what that’s all about. Did you know they were friends? You holding out on some juicy gossip, buddy? Anyway, I’ll keep you updated on the prowl.  Gotta go, getting the stink eye from the Babysitter._

Shit. He was hoping that he could finally shelve the case of the Alchemist Killer.  He tossed the paper on his desk and leaned back in his chair, cursing the powers that were for the failure.

The fact that Lieutenant Havoc was accompanying Fullmetal to Risembool meant that the young alchemist couldn’t travel alone, which meant that those extensive repairs were truly extensive.  And if this… Scar could stop Fullmetal in his stubborn, obstinate, locomotive tracks, they were dealing with something formidable indeed. He would contact Havoc later and find out more details.

“Jackie and Evelyn, hmm?” he said softly to himself with a wicked smile.  “Now that’s a bit of news.”

And speaking of pretty girls… he picked up the receiver and dialed up his favorite combination of numbers.

“And how is my little sweetheart?” Maes said, almost ready to burst at the sound of his precious little angel’s voice over the line. “My little ray of sunshine, of course Daddy loves you!”

“Ah, sir?”

“Just a minute, Sheska. What’s that honey? Aw honey! Ah, aren’t you just the smart one!”

“Sir, it’s....”

“One more moment, Sheska. I’ll be home in a few hours, darling. Yes, I will! Really? I didn’t know that.” Ah, the joys of fatherhood! “Okay, go ahead and sing, honey, Daddy’s listening.”

“Sir!”

Maes’ frowned at the preemptive tone and looked up at the librarian. And into the face of a Lieutenant General.

He almost gave himself whiplash standing up, especially since he still had the phone pressed to his ear. “Um...honey-I-have-to-go-I-promise-to-hear-you-sing-tonight-bye!” He almost broke the phone hanging it up, then snapped his most efficient salute. “Afternoon, sir!” He looked closer and almost had heart failure right there.

“Sit down, boy. Don’t go imploding on me now,” the grizzled old man waved a hand, seating himself in the chair across the desk and crossing his leg at the knees. “The day a man can’t take a moment to talk to his favorite little girl, is the day I’ll shoot myself between the eyes.”

That didn’t help Maes’ desire to sink below the desk. “Yes, sir!” It was rare that someone this high up came to his office without notice, yet the day they do, he’s jabbering on the phone – on a personal call, no less. Granted, it was to his darling sweetheart, but still. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Lieutenant General Grumman, sir?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been ‘sir’ed so much in my life.” The man slapped a hand on the top of the desk. “I’m here for two reasons.” He peered at Maes again. “Hughes, would you relax, man! With all the cases you have to handle, I would suspect you need to take a moment or two to yourself. I’m not planning on writing a report to the Fuhrer about you making goo-goo noises at the perfectly perfect fruit of your loins.”

Maes did his best to look relaxed. At least he tried for a less frantic tone of voice. “Ah...to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, sir?”

“That’s better.” Lieutenant General Grumman nodded. “As I said, I’m here for two reasons. I’ll get straight to the serious one. We’re having a problem with a couple of production warehouses near my headquarters.”

“A problem?” Maes leaned forward. Problems were his bread and water. The meaning of his life in this man’s army was to solve problems.

“In a town just to the north. Tin City, I believe it’s called.”

“I know the city.” Tin City was one of the major producers of gunpowder and dynamite. Situated in a mountain valley, it was a sparsely populated city, kept that way to ensure minimal casualties should an accident happen at one of the warehouses.

“Yes, well, we have been receiving reports of theft, accompanied by extreme vandalism. Someone is stealing basic components for explosives.”

Maes looked confused. “I don’t understand. _Components_ for explosives?

“Our finished materiel is guarded by our best security, you know that.” Grumman snorted. “It would be unlikely to get their hands on a box or two of dynamite, or a couple barrels of gunpowder, no? However, these are deft thieves.”

“What exactly are they taking?

“It started with small amounts of potassium nitrate, sulfur, charcoal. Then it started to increase. One night it’s a barrel of potassium nitrate. The next, they’re taking sulfur. Down to the glycerol and nitric acid. It’s crippling our production – not much right now, but if it gets worse, it gets to the attention of the Fuhrer. Not something I need.”

“And no one has any idea who is doing this?” Maes frowned. This was uncommon thievery; surely there was some kind of evidence.

“All of the employees in the plants in question have been interrogated. Whoever is doing it is infiltrating from the outside. And that is not all.”

Maes leaned forward.

“The vandalism consists of wholesale destruction of evidence or witnesses.”

“Damn.”

“And when I say destroyed, I mean _destroyed._ ” Grumman steepled his fingers under his chin. “Reduced to slag, meat and bits of bone.”

Maes paled and retreated from those facts. The last time he’d heard that type of devastation was in Ishbal. He leaned back in his chair, giving himself distance to consider that piece of information. “Are you sure?”

Grumman pulled a couple of photographs from his shirt pocket.  Maes took them and his hand shook when he saw blackened flash points, the discoloration of concrete, broken bits of glass. The slag left behind from steel support beams. There weren’t any corpses – any _complete_ corpses, just the blown up bits of flesh and bone normally seen on a battlefield.

He also saw clear demarcation lines, as if the demolition was choreographed, planned. _Elegant destruction._

Maes held in his bile and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “This does not look good at all.”

“That’s why I’m here, Lieutenant Colonel. What we’re seeing does not fit what we know.”

 _What we know._   That was saying a mouthful there.  He only knew of a few people who could cause such damage, and they were accounted for. So this made no sense.

“I need someone on this right away. If anyone higher up gets wind of the fact that someone is running about with our explosive components and making their own weapons,” Grumman shook his head, “and the fact that they’re making Tin City look like another Dahlia district, my head will roll for dereliction of duty.”

A cold chill trickled down Maes’ neck.  Interesting that he would mention _that_ particular wasteland. “Of course...” Maes’ intuition was starting to churn, and it thought that the making of bombs was too obvious a motive for such theft.

“I want a crack team of people on this. People who know all about these type of chemicals, how to use them, what they’re used for – aside from the making of explosive materials, that is.”

“What about among your staff?”

“My subordinates are all foot-licking dingbats,” Grumman said. “Sent to me because nobody else wanted them. They think the thieves are just intent on stockpiling weapons.” The man shook his grizzled head. “Now, I’ve been around the fence quite a few times. If a person wants to make a bomb, they steal finished components – gunpowder, the actual sticks of dynamite – and boom! They do their deed and they’re off.”

“You’re right, sir....they wouldn’t go through the trouble of taking the components, destroying the evidence – in this fashion – and constructing a bomb. Too much time.”

“I knew I came to the right place.” Grumman waved his hand. “You never mind those things they say about you, boy– you’ve got your head on straight!”

Maes scratched his chin. Exactly what were people saying about him?

“They’re doing something else with the components. I know it.”

Maes’ looked at the Lieutenant General. “Why?”

“Call it a gut reaction. And this.” The Lieutenant General handed over a folded slip of paper. A simple piece of foolscap cut in half, folded once, slightly charred in places, but not so much that the hastily scrawled patterns were illegible. “Before he died,” and Grumman shuddered.  “Horrible business, that.  One witness described something that… well, look at it.”

Maes opened the slip of paper carefully – and then almost dropped it.

“This is–,”

“I know exactly what that is, Lieutenant Colonel.” Grumman growled. “And that definitely doesn’t fit with anything we know.”

 _At least, nothing that the General would know._ The order that had crossed his desk was Order Number 2-703. The number two indicated that the clearance required to review the order was far higher than the man seated in front of him. That information was highly classified; so classified that it was kept in his office, under very special security, with other inflammatory documentation. The only thing that was missing from the order was the reason for the order.

“He doesn’t need these to explode anything!” Maes muttered, almost to himself. “He doesn’t require any external accelerants, nor any type of ignition…” The bottom of Maes’ stomach dropped out and he almost lost his breath. It finally dawned on him what those picture portrayed.  These were not mere explosions.  He looked at the pictures again.  “This is arson,” he said quietly.

“Yes.  That’s what it _appears_ to be.”

Maes heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ll get right on this, sir.”

“Make sure you do. I mean it, I want your _best_ of your busy bodies on this.”

“Of course, sir.”  Well, at least he had something other than the Alchemist Killer to keep him busy. 

The man smacked his knee again and stood. “Well, that’s all I need to know! Get up, get up, boy and let’s go!”

“Go, sir?”

“I told you, I want your crack team on this! We’re going to Eastern Headquarters. And–,” and here the man smiled, suddenly looking twenty years younger. “It gives me a good excuse to go and say hello to my granddaughter.” He laughed outright. “Spunk! Pure spunk that girl has! Makes me proud every time I think about her!”

Maes rubbed at his temple. In all his days in this department, he didn’t think he’d danced so close to edge of a precipice in his life. He stood, straightening his jacket and prepared to follow.

In the private train car, Maes spent some of the trip puzzling on what the General had told him and had shown him.  He would need to see the scene of the crime, and if he was guessing right, Grumman intended for Roy and his team to go.

Then he thought of something the Lieutenant General said.  “Sir?”

“Yes?” Grumman asked.

“You said there were _two_ reasons you’d come.”

“Ah, yes.”

Maes waited.

Grumman smoothed down his whiskers.  “There have been...certain rumors floating around that I want cleared up.”

“Rumors?” Maes arched an eyebrow.

“About my granddaughter.”

Maes was absolutely sure that he had heard a shoe dropping somewhere. A size 15 military issue boot. He kept his expression completely blank while in his brain, though, gears were turning so fast, he was surprised the man didn’t see the smoke. “First Lieutenant Hawkeye?” he said needlessly, hoping to stall the inevitable.

“You dammed well know who my granddaughter is. And I know about your connections with my granddaughter.”

Maes felt himself shrink, even though he tried not to with all he had. “Connections....?”

“You and her commanding officer are best of friends. Bosom buddies. Life-long pals.”

Inwardly he sighed. “Yes, sir. That we are.” Maes leaned forward and folded his hands, giving up his most earnest look. “What rumors are you hearing sir? Knowing the First Lieutenant, I can almost guess that mere rumors are all they are.”

Grumman shook his head and waggled a wrinkled finger. “Don’t give me that earnestly innocent look, you young whippersnapper! I told you, I’ve been around the fence a few times. This is not the kind of rumor that would even get out of Eastern had it not contained at least one grain of truth. If it had been all lies, my granddaughter would have found out and stomped the fallacy dead into the ground and shot the perpetrator in the ass as well.”

Maes swallowed and pulled at his collar. “Ah...”

“ _And_ , if there is a grain of truth to it, _you_ know all about it.”

“Well, if I knew what the rumor was, perhaps I could–,”

“Is my precious granddaughter _pregnant_ , Lieutenant Colonel?”

The heart in Maes’ chest completely stopped beating for about two seconds. One month. It had taken all of one month for the news to travel from Eastern all the way to her grandfather’s ear. “How would I know such a–,”

“You and that Mustang character are thick as thieves. If I know my girl – and I do – she would have felt compelled to tell her commanding officer. _If_ it were true. And, _if_ it were true, he would have told you. Because, rumor also has it–,” and the man’s eyes practically glittered with--anger? Speculation? “That she’s not naming the father.”

“Ah–,”

“And _if_ that’s the case, then, the information will be in one of those special folders in of those special little filing cabinets. Oh, don’t look so shocked, Lieutenant Colonel. I stay out of all of the political gyrations because it’s easier to observe the whole game that way. Those precious cabinets of yours has been around since before you were a twinkle in your mother’s eye.”

Maes wondered if he could get out this by saying he had to pee. Because, the urge to wet himself had become a singular pinpoint of obsession in his mind.

“And, truth be told, I know many of the people in those files of yours.”

“You do?” Maes blurted, his voice breaking on the second word. Then he straightened, cleared his throat, and asked in a more professional manner. “Ah...I mean, you do?”

“Beside the point. Tell me. Is my precious granddaughter pregnant?”

Maes closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. “If you know about these kind of things, sir, then you know that I’m not at liberty–,”

“I can make it an order, boy. Or you can tell me what you think will be safe for me to know, and save us all a lot of trouble.”

He sent a silent apology to Riza. “That...that is what I’ve been told, sir,” he muttered. Pure truth, but no confirmation.

Lieutenant General Grumman nodded. “And she isn’t naming the father?” The man actually smiled and smacked his knee. “I knew I raised that girl to have some balls! And that girl’s got a brass set of them! Balls, I tell you!”

Maes smiled weakly. He only wished the girl had balls. Then perhaps he wouldn’t be sitting in the middle of this conversation right this moment.

“The doctor push her for the name?”

Maes shook his head. “Honestly, Lieutenant General, I have no idea what the doctor discussed with the First Lieutenant.”

“Hmm. I bet that’s the truth. Oh, and, Hughes?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t think that I don’t realize that there is more to this story than you’re telling me.”

An invisible chasm opened at Maes’ feet. He almost wind milled to keep from falling in.

“However, I won’t order you to tell me everything. If a mere order could get you babbling all of your secrets, I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.” The man leaned back and regarded his timepiece. “And neither would anyone else. I won’t ask any more on the subject.”

“T-Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it. We’ll just see what my Riza has to say about all of this. I want to hear it from the horse’s mouth, as it were.”

Maes almost laughed out loud. Horse’s mouth indeed.

“So, young man, while you get us to Eastern, tell me about this daughter of yours? How old is she?”

Maes looked at Grumman a second, thinking that perhaps the man was joking. When he saw that he wasn’t, Maes grinned like sunshine and whipped out his latest photographs.

They spent almost the entire train ride talking of new teeth, and ankle socks and which mashed fruit washed out of a uniform the fastest.

_###_

Riza woke slowly, stretching luxuriously in the sheets. She smiled, and spent a few precious moments thinking about the night before.

She looked down and put a splayed hand on her lower abdomen. Anyone who saw her and didn’t know wouldn’t have noticed much of a change, but Roy noticed. She recalled his hands fluttering, ghost-like over her, tracing an abdomen that had once been flat and firm, now giving way to the life growing inside of her. Where once had been a slight muscular definition, now there was a softness of skin, a minute rounding, that his keen eye picked up and his touch confirmed in wonder.

His reaction to the physical changes had left her flat-footed in surprise. To her, the changes were the simple indications of her condition, experienced by women the world over. To be cherished for sure, but she hadn’t expected such a reaction from him. Not the swaggering, bragging, sometimes sarcastic Roy Mustang.

He had acted nothing of the sort when he made love to her that night before. Slowly, tenderly, even sweetly, he moved over her, bringing her climax to a swelling height with a gentleness he rarely showed. No horseplay, no challenges, and no rough passion last night, she thought, unable to keep from smiling again. It was the first time in her entire life that she felt able to say that she had been worshiped.

It gave her a warm feeling that she would do her best to save for the rest of her life.

Sighing, she swung out of bed and padded to the shower. Her stomach was starting to rumble, chasing away all of the sweet lethargy that he’d left behind when he returned to his own home. If she didn’t feed the beast of a stomach soon, it would strike back, and she would spend most of the day shying away from food in general.

After her shower, she gave into a few more indulgent grins and intense examination of her body, keenly noting the all of the minute changes going on. Then she donned her uniform, her armor against the world outside, and pushed all soft feelings into the protected part of her mind. As she wound up her hair and put in into its trusty clip, she finally felt ready to face the insanity of Eastern Headquarters with the same cool headedness that had become her trademark.

She didn’t make it past her kitchen before noticing the wrapped package sitting on her table. She picked it up, gingerly examining the light tissue paper and the flame-colored ribbon that secured it. Where he’d gotten a ribbon of such a color was beyond her. She pulled it loose and spread open the package on her table, gasping as she saw what lay within.

On the paper, an array had been softly sketched. And, in the center of the array was a ceramic rose. She picked it up carefully, examining it in the light of her kitchen. It was a perfectly formed closed rose, its entirety the color of light cream. In fact... she frowned, then went to her cabinet, opened it. Smiling, she pulled out one of her tea cups, holding it up to the light next to rose. It was the same.

Around the stem was a silk cord and a card, covered with Roy’s careless scrawl. She read the words, and had to fight the prickle of tears in the back of her eyes:

W _hat was once broken is now whole, but entirely changed. Nothing I could do would be enough to show you how honored I am that you are in my life. I hope this makes up for the night I made you so angry and caused you such pain._

She chuckled. Idiot. She had to make sure to remind him of this moment when he was being particularly unmanageable. She gave Hayate a gentle pat and placed her newest treasure on a shelf of some prominence.

The office of the Colonel was in a peculiar state of chaos when she arrived. Because Havoc had decided to accompany Edward to Risembool to get the repairs to his destroyed arm, the others were trying to pick up some of his slack.  Expense reports were scattered in front of Fuery and Breda, split between the two.  Fuery was muttering and chewing on a pencil like an overexcited squirrel.

“How does he do this?” the young man muttered. “I can barely read half of this chicken scratch!”

“I don’t know,” Breda grumbled, “but he deserves a medal for doing this.  This is worse than breaking a message encrypted by a rabid cow.”

The Colonel himself was sitting at his desk, having pulled himself up from a slouch when she entered.  She watched as he put a pen to the paper on his desk and made an attempt to at least look like he was doing what he was supposed to, moaning and asking everyone why he was being put upon in such an obtrusive manner.

“Because you are a paragon of efficiency, sir,” Riza said dryly, scooping up the pile of new transfer folders on the large desk. She flipped through the first on the top to check them before promptly placed them on his desk. “These are yours as well. I’m sure you can sign them without pulling a muscle somewhere.”

He groaned, pulled at his hair and muttered. “When I become Fuhrer–,”

“Don’t say it, sir,” Riza said. She moved over to the table again and took in the work left there. She shook her head and sat down with the others. The amount of bureaucracy in this army was sometimes ridiculous. She took half of the stack of transfer paperwork and began sorting them in chronological order. “Is this all for now?” she asked him.

Roy muttered something only half-intelligible. His tone caught her attention, and when she looked at him, she saw him try to slide some of the bottom folders off of the desk and into his right bottom drawer.  She cleared her throat and he froze, gave her a look, and pulled the files back where they belonged.

Only the commotion in the hallway outside broke her concentration a few hours later. She sat up and rubbed her neck, wondering what all the noise was about.

Before she could even move from her seat, the door banged open. The first warning she got that something was slightly amiss was Fuery dropping his pencil. She gave her full attention to the visitors, then wished she had something to drop.

The Colonel was scrambling up as well, uncaring of the folders flying across his desk. She hadn’t seen him snap such a precise salute in quite some time. Truly, she was impressed as she joined the line of soldiers in front of the Colonel’s desk.

The adjutant made his announcement as if he were introducing the Fuhrer himself. “Lieutenant General Grumman!”

Riza could see Hughes behind the Lieutenant General, and tried to question him with her eyes. He gave her a helpless shrug.

Grumman eyed the line of soldiers for a long moment, before giving a grin big enough to split his face. “At ease, Colonel!” he said, coming forward. He took the Colonel’s hand and gave it a healthy shake. “Good to see you again, boy!”

The Colonel blinked for a few moments before recovering. “What a surprise to see you, sir....”

“Been a while, been a while,” the old man said, looking up and down the rest of the line. “Wanted to see one of our crack teams in action. Especially one in particular.” He stopped in front of Riza, who wouldn’t break her salute if it killed her.

Smiling, Grumman said. “Are you going to release your soldiers, Colonel, so that I can greet my granddaughter properly?”

From the corner of her eyes, she say the Colonel’s eyes widen slightly. _Didn’t he know?_ She wondered.

“Ah...your _granddaughter_ , sir?”

 

 


	20. A Danger Illustrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as he sat at his desk, Hughes pulled out a scrap of paper and pushed it across the desk toward Roy. He opened it and felt his expression freeze in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU, because I blend a little FMA, gently fold in some FMA:B, and liberally sprinkle with all kinds of headcanons. Some OOC, because, yeah, circumstances. It is also an almost total rewrite of my original fic, completed in 2005. 
> 
> Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go and do the Carlton Dance.
> 
> Each chapter is titled after a lyric in a song that was part of the soundtrack I have for this tale. Check the current music for the song.

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 19: A Danger Illustrated**

**Rating: PG**

**Soundtrack: _Firestarter – The Prodigy_**

 

Roy would have been the happiest person alive if the powers that were did not deliver any more surprises to his doorstep.  General Grumman’s _granddaughter._ If he properly thought about it, he didn’t have anyone to blame for this lack of knowledge but himself.  Confident he knew all he needed to know about his new adjutant, he hadn’t even bothered to read Riza’s file when he took possession of it after Ishbal. Perhaps if he had taken a moment, certain things would have fallen into place faster.  
  
Grumman was smiling at him in that same way he did when he was about to trounce him at chess. “Please don’t tell me that you didn’t know. All those years in my son-in-law’s home, and he never told you that his wife’s father was in the military?” he thought about that for a moment.  “Well, then he never did have a liking for the military, and I had little contact with her during the man’s life. Man had his own way of doing things. Shame, that.” He moved closer to the woman in question. “Riza is my darling daughter’s only child, Colonel.” He grinned again, the ends of his mustache turning up with his smile. “And I really would like to greet the girl properly. I’m feeling if you don’t release her she’s going to freeze this way.”  
  
Roy cleared his throat. “At ease, First Lieutenant. At ease, all of you.”  
  
The Lieutenant General – who was her grandfather, dammit – moved around her one time, then took her in his arms, nearly squeezing the breath from her. “Still the same, girl! Still the same.”  
  
Riza cautiously put her arms around the man’s neck. “Hello, grandfather,” she said carefully, trying to maintain her professionalism.  Roy took a bit of satisfaction in the fact that she was as floundering as he was.  
  
After the touching greeting, Grumman looked at Roy over Riza’s shoulder. “Bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, aren’t you, Colonel?”  
  
“The thought has crossed my mind, sir.”   
  
Grumman clapped his hands together and Roy barely held himself from a startled flinch. He hated being caught flat-footed!  
  
“Well,” the General said, “There are two reasons I am here.” He looked again at Riza.  “The first has to do with you,” he said, with a conspiratorial wink, “and I’ll let the Lieutenant Colonel here brief you about the second reason, but to start…” Grumman gestured.  
  
It was strange, how quickly ones hands could go clammy when facing certain doom. He knew. The Lieutenant General knew about Riza. And if he knew about that, did he know about anything else?  
  
“Me, sir?” Riza asked, maintaining her calm demeanor on the outside.  Roy could look at her and tell what a shell it was.  
  
“Certain types of information have a tendency to travel fast, Riza.” Grumman said. “I understand congratulations are in order.”  
  
Riza blushed a full rosy shade.  
  
“And don’t try to dissemble with me, girl. It takes a certain type of bravery to do what you’re doing, and I heartily approve!”  
  
“Ah… thank you, Grandfather.”  
  
“Are you all right, Colonel Mustang?” Grumman shook his head. “Do you have any reservations about Riza continuing in her condition?  I wouldn’t worry… many women continue serving during this time.  And my girl is a woman among women!” He patted Riza on the shoulder, the way he would any other solider. “Well, go ahead, Hughes! Fill them in on the other reason we’ve come.”  
  
Exactly how had her grandfather found out about her condition? Roy cut his eyes at Maes, wondering if his friend’s mouth had taken off again without his brain.  
  
Hughes came forward, wisely staying carefully an arm’s length away from Roy. For good reason.  Roy gave him a death-glare and tugged on the cuffs of his gloves, and enjoyed watching Maes swallow around that sudden lump in his throat that he could see from where he sat.  
  
Maes briefed them about a rash of thefts going on in a town called Tin City, near the Northern Headquarters. Someone was making off with the components to make explosive devices. During the recitation, Roy gathered up the shreds of his decorum and was able to respond in proper manner.   
  
“You would like my team to investigate, sir?” he directed toward Grumman.  
  
“Indeed. This needs to be handled before news gets to the higher ups.”  
  
Roy cleared his throat. “As soon as my recon person arrives, I’ll send a team out.”  
  
“Make sure you’re on that team, Colonel,” Grumman said, piercing Roy with a keen eye. “Considering what we know of the situation, I believe it would do us good to have an alchemist out there to examine the evidence.” The General moved to look out of the window behind Roy’s desk. “I don’t have to tell you how it will look if you solve this crime, do I?”  
  
Roy blinked, the gears in his brain spinning off onto a new track. Another notch on his way up. Perhaps this was a surprise he could deal with.  
  
“If you don’t know about incendiaries, I don’t know who would,” Grumman finished.  
  
Roy pulled a bit at his collar.  “Yes, sir.”  
  
“Beg your pardon, sir,” Riza managed to ask, “But, why do you need an alchemist on this case? Isn’t this a simple theft?”  
  
“Show them, Hughes.”  
  
“I think it would be best if we do this in your private office,” Maes offered.  
  
Roy waited a few seconds for Maes to give him any visual clues, but when nothing more than a heavy look was forthcoming, he quickly made his way to the door and held it open for Maes, the General and Riza.  
  
As soon as he sat at his desk, Hughes pulled out a scrap of paper and pushed it across the desk toward Roy. He opened it and felt his expression freeze in place.   
  
This was something he’d never thought he’d see again. As soon as he ran his gaze over the two arrays hastily drawn on the paper, he felt a hot wind caress the back of his neck. The smoke of distant, ugly memories rose behind his eyes and wrapped his brain in a haze of foreboding. For the barest of heartbeats he was transported back to Ishbal, and felt a hard rock of disquiet tumble into the pit of his stomach.  
  
He never thought he would encounter this again.  
  
He shook his head to clear it. “This is–,” he began, looking at his friend.  
  
“Yes,” Maes answered urgently.  
  
“No one outside of the military is supposed to know about this,” he continued, looking at the General. “I take it the witness is civilian.”  
  
“Was,” Hughes said quickly. “And there is more.”  
  
Roy swore. Along with an alchemist killer galloping around Amestris, bumping off alchemists, now we had this… spreading chaos too?  
  
Maes placed a few photographs in front of him, like he was dealing a hand of twenty-one. Grainy, mostly in focus, military grade photographs.  The first was a picture of the outside of a destroyed warehouse, presumably in Tin City. It took him less time to recognize what he was seeing than it did to blink his eyes. “What the…?” fell out his mouth. He clenched the rest of the filthy words he wanted to say behind his teeth and curled his lip.   
  
They didn’t just need an alchemist, they needed him.  
  
“This is arson,” he said. His voice carried no emotion, but he could see Maes blanch and Riza put a hand to her throat.  
  
“That’s what it looks like,” Grumman agreed. Roy’s gaze moved to the Lieutenant General and he tried to see behind the ever-present, bland gaze.  
  
_That’s what it looks like._ That meant there was more here, under what was on the surface. Roy swept his eyes over the photographs again, this time taking in the details like the starving at a banquet.  
  
He picked up a picture of the interior of the warehouse.  Aside from a few burnt pallets, the room was empty, as if nothing had been stored there. So someone had removed the materials before setting the fire. Black scorch marks covered all four walls and floor, moving in a counter-clockwise pattern from his view.  He could easily pinpoint where the flame started and tracked its progress around the room, seeing where the windows had blown out from the heat, and where the metals in the walls and window casings had melted into slag. Every area of the building was scorched except for a small spot roughly in the center of the room; that was the epicenter.  
  
A trembling began under the surface of his skin, spreading an uncomfortable heat through his body.  He shook his head slightly to drive it deeper and picked up another photo of the interior.  
  
What caught his eye in this close up photo was the absence of any obvious flash points. None of the remaining pictures – all close ups of the walls – showed a flash point, a source of the flames. All he could see was black carbon detritus painted on with a smooth, elegant hand.  
  
How.   
  
Dare…  
  
The words escaped from between tightly pressed lips. “How dare he?”  
  
He felt Riza lean over his shoulder to look.  He heard her light gasp. “Colonel…” Riza’s soft voice broke through the tense silence following his words.  
  
“Talk to me, Roy,” Maes said, leaning forward.  “What are you seeing that we do not?”  
  
Roy shot him a look. He could sense that his friend was trying to lead him up a path he didn’t want to go. Maes wanted the words hitting the open air, he wanted the thoughts to be made real. He took some time to find a way to explain this while keeping his rage leashed and controlled.  
  
_There were rooms like this in the Dahlia Sector.  Many, many rooms. Warehouses and homes. Schools and shops. A sector reduced to shells of nothing in one day and night of heat, sweat, impotent anger, borderline psychosis and regret._ _  
  
_There were buildings that had been reduced to rubble, matter shaken and deconstructed by an adroitly designed imbalance, attended by maniacal laughter and the blessings of the battle commanders._  
  
_There were also buildings like one he was looking, razed into hollow, blackened shells, carefully created, brought to life through military orders, manipulated by misguided duty, and kept at just below five hundred degrees Celsius._  
_  
“Roy?” Maes cut through the memories.  
  
_He remembered all of the commanding officers taking special pleasure in walking through afterward, commenting and commiserating on the differences and symmetry between raze and ruin._ _  
_  
“This is not the deconstruction you would expect from these symbols,” Roy finally said. “And there are no accelerants present,” he concluded. He gave them nothing but fact, knowing that conclusions would be reached without his help.  
  
“You’re sure?” Grumman asked, leaning forward and pinning Roy with a careful look.  
  
“Absolutely sure, sir.” He gestured at a couple of key points in the photos. “A fire starts when a flammable or a combustible material – an accelerant—in combination with a sufficient quantity of an oxidizer such as oxygen gas or another oxygen-rich compound, is exposed to a source of heat or an ambient temperature above the flash point for the fuel oxidizer mix, and is able to sustain a rate of rapid oxidation that produces a chain reaction.”  
  
Grumman blinked at him and took that in for a moment. “I sometimes forget that you State Alchemists are scholars in your own right,” he said.  “Say that again, in words an old man like me can understand.”  
  
“My apologies. When a… normal… fire is set, four things are needed: heat, fuel, oxygen and the chain reaction those three produce. I see the heat, I see that there has been oxidation that caused a chain reaction all around this room from oxygen – that’s a given.”  He waved his hands over the photos.  “But I see no source of fuel in any of these fires. The area where the fuel was placed would look different from the rest of the area – this is how investigators discover the source of a fire.”  
  
“Not a normal fire.” Maes said haltingly.  
  
Roy was sure that everyone could hear his teeth grinding as he tried to keep it in utter control. He would save it for catching this… miscreant.  “This is … not … a normal fire.”  
  
_How dare he?_ Roy roared in the back of his mind.  
  
“So these fires were not caused by the materials stolen.”  
  
“These fires were set to appear to be covering up evidence.” _Actually, these fires were set to appear to have been set in a specific way._   “These drawings,” he tapped the paper, “do not make sense when coupled with what is seen in these photos.” _But then, when had anything that motherfucker had done make any sense?_  
  
Roy cleared his throat, halting questions by standing and smoothing his uniform jacket.  He hoped that his hands were not visibly shaking; and he was doing his best to keep the vibrations he felt just below the surface of his skin hidden.  When he looked over at Maes, he saw where his friend’s eyes were being drawn.  He looked down at his gloves too.  Roy threw a quick, warning glance and stepped from behind his desk.  
  
“As soon as Second Lieutenant Havoc returns from Risembool, my team will leave for Tin City,” he stated, allowing Riza to open the door for the men and allowing the General to precede him.  
  
“Tell me about this team,” Grumman said as they made their way to the main room.  
  
“It will be myself, the First Lieutenant as my backup, Second Lieutenant Havoc at recon and Sergeant Fuery at communications.”  
  
“I will go as well, General,” Maes said, “to gather any further evidence.”  
  
Grumman turned a sharp eye on Riza, then looked at her Commanding Officer. “Are you sure that is wise?”   
  
Roy stopped mid-step. _Come on, folks, cut me a break. Please?_ “What do you mean?”  
  
“Are you sure she should be on this type of mission in her condition?”  
  
_Were_ you _planning on telling her she couldn’t go?_ Roy mentally asked the General.  Before he could answer, Riza spoke up.  “My condition has not compromised my abilities, sir.” Riza said flatly. “And won’t in the foreseeable future.  I can go.”  
  
“If you are sure, my girl...”  
  
“I’m positive.” Roy was pinned by a glance from Riza, daring him to contradict her. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something she would think stupid, but under her non-verbal assault, he subsided, but the look of warning she threw him behind her grandfather’s back spoke volumes.  
  
“If you say it’s so, then I will not argue,” the Lieutenant General said. “Now, dear granddaughter, come and tell me all about this new turn of events of yours. You don’t mind if I borrow her for a few moments, do you, Mustang?”  
  
As if he had a choice, he gestured vaguely and watched the Lieutenant General take his granddaughter to a desk situation in a corner of the office, placed there for files to be filed.  
  
Roy sighed to himself and sat at his desk in the outer office. Even though he tried with everything he had to distance himself, his mind kept returning to the photographs and what they showed. He looked up to ask Maes a question, and noticed that Havoc had returned. He was about to say something cocky to break his mood until he took a good look at the shadows under his Second Lieutenant’s eyes.  
  
When Havoc looked up, he noted the august company and stood to offer his salute. Roy gestured for him to come to the main desk.  
  
“How is Fullmetal?” he asked.  
  
He watched Jean chew on the butt of his cigarette for a moment, then his eyes narrowed.  “He needed his entire arm replaced – including the port.” He grunted.  “He’ll be out of commission for a while.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“His recklessness happened,” Havoc said shortly. His tone of voice captured Roy’s attention and he took a better look.  There was something dark and shuttered in Havoc’s eyes that didn’t fit with the man’s usual easy-going nature. Roy socked that information away for future dissection.    
  
“Look at this,” he said, shoving the photos at Havoc.  
  
Jean ran his eyes over them. Roy watched his gaze stop at certain areas, and waited.  
  
“This don’t look right, Colonel.” Roy waited for more, but it seemed that Jean was not forthcoming with anything else.  It wasn't like his Second Lieutenant to be this stingy with his words. He wondered if Fullmetal had suffered more injuries than Jean was letting on.  
  
“Indeed,” Roy growled, subsiding when the Lieutenant General wrapped up his conversation with Riza and came to the desk himself.  
  
“This is my best recon man, Second Lieutenant Havoc,” Roy said by way of introduction. Grumman shook Jean’s hand enthusiastically, waving away a second salute.  
  
“How is Fullmetal?” Riza asked quietly.  
  
“Yes, I hear he was banged up pretty bad,” Maes said.  
  
“He’s always getting banged up,” Jean muttered. “You know he focuses only on the task in front of him, and not on his own welfare.”  
  
“Sounds like a dedicated lad,” the Lieutenant General said expansively.  
  
Jean’s gaze skittered to the side and he muttered “Sounds like a dedicated idiot.”   
  
No one else heard it, but Roy caught the growl in his voice, and filed that next to the other observations. “Let’s get ready to move out.”  
  
###  
  
The train moved painfully slow.  The General’s presence allowed them a private car, but that just increased the boredom of the ride.  It gave Roy a chance to brew on the evidence he’d seen and the heat behind his eyes kept rising.  Riza sat beside Roy, and he knew she was watching the frenetic energy dancing behind his eyes. It was one of the things she did best. He didn’t have to tell her that what he really wanted to do was get off the train at their destination and chase down the depraved son of a bitch who thought he could do something like this and get away with it and turn him into a winter festival lantern.  
  
“How dare he?” he muttered again, tugging on his gloves.  
  
“Ro-Colonel,” Riza murmured. “That is the second time you’ve said that.”  
  
He pulled the photograph out of his breast pocket and handed it to her. “Look at this and tell me what you see. Look closely.”  
  
While he watched the scenery change from the monotony of the Eastern skyline to a darker, flatter landscape, Riza took her time examining the photograph. Finally, he felt her tug at his sleeve. He looked at her, keeping his expression purposefully blank.  
  
“This is…” she started, then took a breath and began again in a more measured voice. “Someone is trying to make this look like...”   
  
She looked into his face and he let the righteous anger cloud his eyes again.  
  
“And I know who it is,” Roy growled.  
  
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry. Ishbal hadn’t made him this angry.  During the worst of his training with Riza’s father, when Berthold would push him and push him, and then to finally criticize him, Roy never showed all of the levels of his anger. When he was forced to hide in the dumbwaiter to get a moment or two away from the man’s inconsistent moods, and even the one time he had to spend an entire day, without break, practicing perfect circles, Roy kept his temper and channeled it into perfecting his craft.  
  
But this. That someone was producing evidence to make someone believe that the destruction was caused by flame alchemy… he wanted to break the window.  
  
What was worse, what insulted him the most was that it was all wrong. He had a distinct style and it showed in his work.  What he was looking at was, in his estimation, a piss poor imitation of the real thing.  
  
For something like this, Roy would have spread the fires in a clockwise motion.  For the razing of a room, he would stand at a 40 degree angle to his starting point. He would raise his dominant hand and leave the other at rest.  For a room this side, he would only need the one hand. The rest was simple: ignition and the blaze would move with him as he twisted his arm and torso in a clockwise motion. Simple, refined, graceful, if he did say so himself.  
  
Riza leaned forward and touched his shoulder. “We’ll get to the bottom this,” she said.  “I have no doubt.”  
  
“Of course,” Roy said, negligently waving his hand.  That’s what he needed. Validation that they would catch the imposter.  
  
“If it’s who I think it is,” Maes said, “this is going to be one interesting mission.”  
  
“Do we take him alive or dead?” Jean asked.  
  
“It would be best alive,” Maes answered.  
  
A winter festival lantern. “Questions need to be answered,” Roy growled. “So I would say _mostly_ alive.”  
  
No one in the train car contradicted him. No one dared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get nasty ya'll. Hold on to your hats.


	21. Interlude: Waiting for the Song to Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as they hated it, human nature did come in very handy every once in a while.

Games without Frontiers

Interlude: Waiting for the Song to Start

Rating: PG

Soundtrack: _The Phoenix --- Fall Out Boy_

 

There were four shadows under the cover of moonlight, waiting.  One was a thing of more beauty than anyone had yet described. Another was not really a shadow, but made itself that way through misguided subterfuge.  The third was… well, the third; the shadow of a shadow.  And the fourth, one shadow who was more than one, watched, holding themselves just outside of the rough circle.

The beauty looked at her bloated ever-faithful shadow and said the same thing that had been said a million times before:

“Please wipe your mouth.”

As the nasty thing did as he was told, Envy wondered where such blind and unshaken devotion came from in such a creature completely devoid of one redeeming quality. And why such blind and unshaken devotion had never been directed toward _them_. Gave it a moment of thought, then shrugged.  They didn’t need such slavering attachment.  They had enough faith in themselves to carry them through any fucking thing.

In any case, the next thing Lust said was far more important than the first, and it was directed at them:

“The boy is going there.”

“For what?” they asked, casting their glance around the mismatched assortment of tents that they could see from their perch on the wall. The thick, torpid locks of hair that swept in front of their face made the campfires play raucous games with the canvas tents.  They watched the hectic dance for about four breaths, then, “Didn’t he get his infinitesimal ass beat enough by your friend over there the last time he stuck his snot nose somewhere? What, didn’t he get enough ass-whipping from Crazy-Eyes over there?” They jerked their head at the man who thought he was a shadow leaning against the wall on the other side of she shapely one.  The man’s strange colored eyes, and moonlight-colored hair drew in all of the light and cast him in eerie contrast of the rest of their darkness.  He stood out like a boil on the backside of humanity. 

They were irritated by his presence, at his attempt at civility. They could practically see the soul leeching away from the man, every time he drew breath. He might have been useful to the four shadows before him; but his dammed integrity stood in the way.

“I don’t know,” the womanly shadow said. “I would have thought that you had ample opportunity to find out.” She gave them a long look from beneath her luscious eyelashes.  “You’ve spent more time around him lately than I have.”

“That’s only because you were too busy keeping a close eye on your so-called brother-in-law to pay attention to the task at hand.” Envy leaned down and met her stare unflinchingly. “Did you forget our purpose while you were over there diddling him?”

The man in question flinched at the implication. The woman laughed delicately and took a few graceful steps toward Envy. 

Envy watched the sway of her hips beneath the incongruous black gown and told the growl burrowing its way up from the bottom of their throat to go back where it came from.  This bitch had been made the way she had been made for a damned good reason, and fuck if they was going to succumb to it. Anymore.

They had better things to do. Bigger fish to fry. Tighter asses to fuck with.

“I remember our purpose, dears. I can never forget it. Recall that I didn’t ask for this any more than you did.”

“No, I didn’t ask for this gift, but I sure as hell ain’t gonna look the horse’s ass who gave it to me in the mouth.” Envy jumped from the wall then and began to pace. Their thick ropes of hair slapped their shoulders with each step. “Damn that little shit! He can’t stay put if you nailed him in place. We should have realized that the punk would have completely ignored our orders.  We should have known better.” 

The pipsqueak, after all, was as smart − if not smarter − than his father. And his father was a formidable man.

“So, are you suggesting that we challenge him now?  So soon into the game?” Envy shook their head.  “I don’t think that’ll be a good idea.  He’s too skittish.  Too… distracted.”

The woman tilted her head in curiosity.  “Distracted by what?”

They looked her up and down and concentrated a significant glance on the thing between her very sumptuous breasts.  “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Really?  Do tell.”

“Heh.  It’s all real interesting, now that I think about it.  I’ll let you figure this one out on your own.  Just rest assured that part of his brain is on other pursuits.  And we had _nothing_ to do with it this time.”

As much as they hated it, human nature did come in very handy every once in a while.  Perhaps when all of this was over and they could walk among humans without being detected, they would study it further detail.  Like they had planned to before all of this bothersome shit started.

“Hm… well, then I suppose that we should just leave another little trail of bread crumbs this time.  Perhaps if we told him gave him more on the laboratory…”

“Perhaps if we stuck our foot up his ass too while we are at it?”

“Envy, could you stop thinking about your personal vendettas for just one moment?”  Lust whirled and actually stomped her pretty little foot.  “This is a careful path we all have to tread.  He is only one option among several.  And you know we’ve been told.”

“Yeah, yeah… the more irons in the fire, the better.”

“And we can’t let those irons trip over each other on the way to our goal.  We must make sure they stay on divergent paths.”

“All paths leading to the final destination?”

“Of course.”

“Now where have I heard that before?” Envy said sarcastically.

Lust suddenly turned her attention to her other companion.  “Gluttony, leave that rat alone.  You don’t know where it’s been.”

“But I’m _hungry_.”

“I know, dear.  That will be taken care of soon enough.”

The other person in their party suddenly spoke, his voice rough with fatigue.  “How can you… what _he_ did…” he pointed at Gluttony, “with that innocent little boy over there… woman, you know that is a crime against nature.  And you allowed it!”

Envy crossed their arms over their chest and gave the scruffy man a look of contempt.  “And who are you to talk?  Killer. You take our pretty toys and blow them all to pieces.”

“Mine is a holy mission!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that and maybe one day you will really believe it.”  Envy leaned in, leering at the man.  “You’re a destroyer.  Same as us.  Only you’re not honest enough to call it what it is.”

The man stared back at them, his eyes unseen beneath the glitter of the tinted lenses he wore.  Envy didn’t like those things.  Maybe if they plucked them off and shoved them down his…

“Leave him alone, Envy,” Lust said, her voice deceptively low. 

Envy sneered at her again and withdrew. She would always defend this pitiful excuse for a human. Always. And for what? Some half-remembered familial loyalty?  Please.

“He has his part in all of this as well and you know that,” she continued. “Our task here is simple. You need to stay focused on that for now. Do you think you can keep to it and not get distracted by your own personal issues?”

“As long as I can get a chunk out of the pipsqueak in the end, we’re all good.”

Lust sighed and turned to the other man.  “You will lure him to the location.”

“I will not.” The man stood his ground firmly. “I won’t lure anyone into a trap such as the one you intend to set.”

“Oh, you’ll just kill him yourself?” Envy said. “How _noble_.”

“At least the death I bring him will be clean and not… repugnant.  I know you would have this… creature devour him.”

“Oh, dear man,” Lust said, a smile on her delectable lips, “I would do no such thing.  The boy is too valuable by far for the moment.  I only wish to guide him on a path that will be beneficial to all.”

“To use his perversions for your means?”

“And yours, Scar.”  Lust moved close enough to the man for her breasts to brush against his chest.  “Scar.”  She chuckled.  “What an interesting name you have given yourself.”

“I did not give myself that name.  I have no name.”

Lust continued as if she hadn’t heard him.  “Don’t you want to know why you carry that mark on your arm?  Don’t you ache to know why your brother gave it to you?”  She reached up a hand and touched a light finger to the light patch of skin between his eyes.  “Don’t you want to remember where this came from?”

“Get away from me.” The man’s voice held a slight note of desperation. Envy watched and listened to the exchange the same way one would watch a predator would watch its mate take down prey.  Despite her underhanded means of getting what she wanted, the bitch was good. They had to give that much to her.

“Why? Your brother was very… special to me.”  She touched Scar’s neck, her nails extending just enough to graze skin.  “And you are your brother’s keeper, after all.”

“Please…” the man gritted out, refusing to plead.

“Will you do what I ask?”

“Fine,” he grated. “As long as you keep your part of the bargain.”

“It is the least I can do… for your family.” She ran her hand down, over his shoulder and down, barely grazing his right arm and the pattern of black lines etched there. Envy noted that she was very careful not to actually touch him. As it was, something in her skin must have come in contact, for the merest glow of red phosphorescence glowed where her fingers passed and she gasped.

Envy frowned. They realized then that, despite their earlier assumptions, they would have to watch this sin very, very carefully.  They were wrong to underestimate her; she was as reckless as the whole group were.  They just had to make sure that her recklessness didn’t detract from their ultimate goal.

After all, if they had to keep their own private needs in check, so did she.

“Lust…”  Gluttony suddenly whined again.  “I can smell….”

Envy felt something too; not quite a scent, more like a sensation raising the fine hairs on their forearms. They looked toward the end of the alleyway and saw two dark figures, sweeping through the night, cloaks sweeping behind them that dark angel wings. One of them stopped, and remained still for a moment. Curiosity thrummed all around the figure and Envy watch as he turned slightly in their direction. Envy knew that no one could make the four of them out among the shadows; all the same they cast their ultimate mask over the rest of their group.

The three Sins all movement and conversation and just _absorbed_ what was in the air. 

Lust looked like she was taking them with slow, deep breaths, letting their essence soak into her skin.  “They are male,” she whispered. Envy snorted – of course she would know. Pheromones were like life’s blood to her. “Dark and dangerous. Delightful.” She took another breath. “And they _blend_ … like smoke swirling over the embers of burning sandalwood… and… black cardamom.” She smiled.  “They _blend_ like scotch and soda… or maybe a warm cognac, mellowed by time. They _know_ each other… in more ways than one.”

“They smell like cinnamon to me,” Gluttony moaned, “cinnamon and brown sugar and black tea…” His fat tongue took care of the drool around his bottom lip.  “Sweet dessert. So hungry…. Can I eat them?”

“No, Gluttony,” Lust said as she stepped away from Scar. “We’ll take care of you soon.”

“All I’m getting is fingernails running across a sheet of slate,” Envy said.

“It would feel like that to _you_ ,” Lust said, smirking.

There was a sudden rumble, clap and percussion of a spectacular explosion. Envy froze. They all followed the sound with their eyes, at the flash of red, yellow and white in the northeastern sky, and then when Envy looked again, the two distant shadows had disappeared.

“So,” Envy asked, “About our other target. What is going on with that one?”

“Careful subterfuge,” Lust said. “I have been told to just watch that one carefully and not to engage just yet.  That one must be led more carefully than the little boys.”

“Why?” Envy asked.  “Because he’s a conceited fool?” _That_ one. All flash and fuck all else. An empty, brainless idiot who was so full of shit he sloshed like a sewer when he walked.

Lust gave Envy a knowing smile. They hated that smile.  “Not at all, dears. _He_ has a deepness that has yet to be plumbed. He keeps his cards close to his chest and allows people to see what they want to see. There is nothing dense about him. His desires are more … sophisticated than the boy’s needs. The power he craves is a different type.  _He_ is the last resort, because he will be more difficult to subdue.”

“And the pipsqueak is _easy_?”

“We have what he needs; and he has what we need. It’s an easy thing to develop the idea of… equivalency… with him. The young have simple needs. Despite all of the knowledge that rests in the back of his brain, he only sees in black and white, especially on this subject.  He will be tempted by the bread crumbs we leave for him. And then---,”

An odd shuffling, sucking caught the group’s attention.

Envy halted mid-step and turned in the direction of the whispering, slick and smooth sound. Having heard it enough times in the past weeks, they knew exactly what it meant.

The four shadows turned toward the sound and waited until the new shadow broke through into the one beam of moonlight.

The fifth shadow gave them a cold, green stare. “There have been developments,” the shadow said in a flat voice that slid over them like a glacier. “Our plans have transformed. Slightly.” The fifth shadow looked at the only human in the group, the glance passing over him like smoke on water. “Let us discuss this elsewhere.”

And, like that, they left the human behind, still gathering all of the moonlight to his rugged frame, standing there like a beacon to the two who would be approaching.

Envy licked their lips as they heard the new plot and grinned even more. Interesting. Finally, the fun was about to begin. Let the dice fly, boy.  Let the dice fly.


	22. You Are a Brick Tied to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pulled the collar of his overcoat closer and scowled up at the traitor of a sky. Now, how was he supposed to fight the son-of-a-bitch while it was raining?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill; AU, Non-canon timelines, some OOC, hopefully a lot of yum.
> 
> Comment and follows are always appreciated and help me to hone my skill as a writer, so, don't be shy!
> 
> Each chapter is titled with the lyric of a song.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

Games without Frontiers

Chapter 20: You Are a Brick Tied to Me

Rating: PG

Soundtrack: _The Phoenix --- Fall Out Boy_

 

Her grandfather had moved to the train going to Northern Headquarters at the transfer station, giving her another warm hug and an admonition to be careful for the sake of her ‘little passenger’.  Roy shook her head as she watched him leave, and chuckled when she heard him muttering, “Balls, I tell you!  That girl has a brass set of ‘em!”

Grumman made sure to let them know that the citizens of that little town didn’t hold too much affection for the military, due to the inept behavior of some of his staff. So, they’d changed into civilian clothes in the private car.  While the men changed in the car proper, Riza took the lavatory.  As he tucked in his own shirt, he could picture her slipping into a white button, and her favorite skirt, which was of a light brown color, the better to blend in with the crowd. Once, when he questioned how practical a skirt could be in a combat situation, she showed him the false pocket, which allowed for quick access to the snub-nosed revolver she kept strapped to her thigh, and the lower half of the seam on that side, which was quick release, easily torn for ease of movement.

He clipped on his own shoulder holster and knew she would be wearing one and a jacket, the better to conceal her firepower.  The woman never went anywhere without at least three guns on her person; this time he knew she’d taken a double holster.  That meant she had two under her jacket and one in the back of her waistband.

When she emerged, he gave her a quick once over and noted that none of her weapons were visible in the least. When she caught his gaze, he smiled softly and shook her head, and once again asked himself what he had done to deserve the dedication from her.

His own shoulder holster felt odd, the high caliber gun felt heavy and almost foreign.  Riza had suggested the particular model, called the Eagle, and firing deadly fifty-caliber rounds.  While his gloves were usually perfect defense for any attack he might face, there were times, she’d told him, when nothing beat the safety of a nice, heavy service pistol.  It was impressive enough for a soldier of his rank, and just as effective as a flash inferno to the face.  He hoped he wouldn’t have to use either, but had a sinking feeling that he would probably employ both before the mission was over.

He was entering the enemy’s field of battle here and it rankled.   _The clever combatant imposes his will on theenemy, but does not allow the enemy's will to be imposed on him. _ The son of a bitch was trying to call the shots by luring (and Roy knew exactly what this was) them here, but that was something Roy would not allow.

“Are you expecting rain, Colonel?” Riza asked him in her smoothest voice, gesturing at the side arm.

He looked down at it, then at her with a sardonic smile. He slid on his jacket and reached into his great coat, checking for the two pairs of ignition gloves tucked inside. “Covering all my bases, Lieutenant.”

She allowed the tiniest of smiles to turn up the side of her mouth.  “ _Now_ you… cover your bases,” she said _sotto voce._ Of course he didn’t miss the reference, and frowned slightly, giving her the once over.  Why had she reminded him of that?

No matter what she said, or how many times she talked until she was blue in the face, he did not like the idea of her on this mission in her present state. Thunder gathered in the back of his brain at the thought of injury to her, and he had to turn his face toward the window so she wouldn’t see it and know.  Because she would know.

“I’m positive that this mission will end successfully, Colonel,” she said evenly. Roy smiled tightly. Riza, being herself, had all the confidence in the world that they would get to the bottom of these theft as quickly as she got to the bottom on the bag of cookies she’d pulled from her rucksack.

He shrugged and continued to watch the scenery outside of the window fly by.  “That’s not what’s bothering me now,” he grumbled.

She was silent next to him for a while.  He turned at her lack of comment and watched as she put the last half of a cookie in her mouth and checked her hands for crumbs.

“I don’t like the idea of you going,” he finally tendered, as if he were paying a tax of some kind.

The air suddenly grew thick with tension.  From the corner of his eye, he saw Jean and Maes stop what they were doing and watch.  He could sense Fuery behind him also still and cock and ear to hear her response.

Although her face remained as impassive as ever, he saw the dark spark chocolate-colored eyes. Riza crossed her arms across her chest. “Why? Do you think I’m going to shatter and break into a million pieces?”

“A mission like this has the potential to be dangerous,” he gave her.

“Yes it does. That goes with my job, Colonel,” she reminded him.

He positively glared at the honorific. She wasn’t budging. “You stay close to me, in any case,” he muttered, giving ground.

“Of course, sir. That’s _also_ part of my job,” she advanced.

Maes cleared his throat. Roy shot him a look, and wanted to throw a rock at the back of his friend’s head in response to the smile he was covering up.

“Speaking of which, _Maes_ ,” Roy asked, “How in the hell did the Lieutenant General find out about Riza’s _condition_ , hmm?”

Maes held up both hands. “Hey, he came to _me_ with questions. Apparently rumor got all the way over there, quick, fast and in a hurry.”

“Of course it would,” Riza said quietly. “He _is_ my grandfather. I should have expected it to get to him quicker than anyone else.”

Roy gave her all of his attention again. “When were you planning on telling me that my former commanding officer was _your grandfather_?”

She smiled that frosty little thing she offered up during working hours. “I thought you knew. After Father died and you left for the Academy, I lived with him. He helped pay for the first two years of academy, until I came into my… trust fund.”

Roy colored a bit at the mention of the trust fund, then looked at Hughes, who gave a weak smile, nodded and said. “He did. And it is in her personal file.”

“It is, Colonel,” Riza said with a twitch of her eyebrow. “I assumed you’ve reviewed my personnel file at least one time in the past few years.”

Though he tried to review all possible responses to that salvo, Roy had absolutely nothing to say. Finally, he gave her a no-nonsense look and said, “The minute I smell trouble, you are going back to the base of operation, and I won’t be gainsaid. You got _that_ , First Lieutenant?”

“Clear as crystal, sir.”

“Good.” Roy nodded and stared out the window.  Silence reigned for a few moments, then, like all perfect comebacks, he was struck with inspiration. “By the way...” Roy was saying. “Did your grandfather ever tell you what he did?”

Riza frowned. “What he did?”

“The day I met with him to discuss my transfer.” He turned back to her with a slightly predatory look.  He was going to love this.

Maes groaned and put a hand over his face.

“What did he do?” she asked carefully, her whole posture showing her wish to be anywhere but by his side at that moment.

“Well,” he started, looking down at his fingernails. “When I was a lowly Lieutenant Colonel, it seemed that he shared Maes’ opinion that I should go ahead and get myself a _wife_ before I move up the ranks. Settle me down, I suppose.” He showed her every tooth in his head with the next smile. “So much so, that he offered me his precious _granddaughter’s_ hand in marriage. Loved her so much, he said, that he wanted her to be allied to the ‘next Fuhrer of Amestris’.”

Riza stared

“Of course, he never mentioned the delicate flower by name, and I politely declined.” Roy gave a small chuckle, “Grumman said the offer would remain on the table until the damsel in question made her own choice.”

He paused for a few heartbeats then basked in the glory that, was his First Lieutenant being completely bereft of reply.

###

 

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Riza asked him as they closed the door to their room.

Roy smirked at her as he removed his jacket. “Immensely.” He certainly did enjoy flustering the young woman at the front desk, convincing her to give their party a wonderful set of adjoining rooms – the only set of adjoining rooms in the whole building. As far as any of them downstairs knew, they were a traveling family that were forced to stop due to a wife’s… illness.

Inside, the guest house was as gray as the rest of what they had seen of Tin City. Roy thought he might have seen a grand total of twenty people since he’d arrived. Perhaps they were all hiding from the utterly dismal rain that was falling like hot piss from the sky.

Perhaps they were hiding from something worse.

“We’ll only be here for as long as it takes to confirm that it is who… I think it is… and to apprehend him,” Roy said as he unstrapped his holster and draping it carefully over the back of the chair.

“He won’t go easily,” Riza said as she did the same.

“No. But he _will_ go.”

“I want you to be careful as well, Roy,” Riza said quietly, moving up to him and putting her hands on his shoulders. “I know how angry you are.  How outraged.”

He looked down into her eyes.  “I will. I have to practice what I preach, don’t I?” He lowered his head, and touched his lips to hers. He ran his hands down her back until he reached the small of her back and pulled her close.  He felt her hands move until she had wrapped her own arms around his back.

###

 

He pulled the collar of his overcoat closer and scowled up at the traitor of a sky. Now, how was he supposed to fight the son-of-a-bitch while it was _raining_? As he’d been told on successive occasions, he was utterly useless in the rain. Of course, he had his gun, but that would only dent the shell of this creature.  One of these days, he would have to design a pair of water-proof ignition gloves, dammit.

“Couldn’t you use a lighter?”

Roy turned to Havoc, who was also peering up at the murky sky. “What?”

“I know what you’re thinking. If your gloves don’t work, couldn’t you just use a lighter?”

Technically he could. All he needed was a spark. He could, but it didn’t look _right_. “If it comes down to it, I might have to,” he grumbled. He took a glance slightly behind him and to his right. Riza followed him, wrapped in her own overcoat, both hands shoved in her pockets, expression flat and unreadable.

He knew she was still irritated with him for trying to keep her from coming on the mission. But, he couldn’t help it. If anything happened to her right now, he would be more than useless.

It had occurred to him, sometime that afternoon, that he was being a prized idiot. Riza was more than a capable soldier, in any situation. She’d been that way since he’d known her. And, according to that personnel file (which he had tucked into his rucksack and _did_ read the previous evening) she’d been exemplary from the time she joined. Her promotions had come fast and furious, from mere Private to Second Lieutenant in a mere seven years.

Which gave him an idea...

But, ideas like that were for later. Right now, he had to let her know that he had confidence in her abilities, pregnant or not. It would not do him any good to insult her like that again. Not on duty nor off duty, he thought scowling again. There had been a good reason he’d spent the entire night previous reading a personnel file. Alone. Lying on a settee – where he’d slept after pissing her off.

“Sir?” Havoc said, jerking him out of his ruminations. “You got a plan of action yet?”

“If there were more people around, I could ask a few questions,” Roy muttered. “Damn! I wish Edward were here. He always has this knack for finding the right people to talk to.”

“Hmm,” Havoc said, frowning. “Think he’ll be at home for a while.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” The voice on Havoc was the flattest he’d heard in their entire association.

“What the hell happened on that last mission? Did those two give you any problems?” Escorting the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother was not the easiest task to give anyone. Strangely enough, Havoc had volunteered, saying that he needed to get out and stretch his legs a bit. When he returned, though, he’d been in a nasty mood, barely civil if not downright taciturn.

“Problems?” Jean snorted. “Those two are problems personified.” He shrugged. “A couple of heart attacks on legs.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been out of sorts since your return.”

Jean hunched his shoulders against the rain and turned toward the darkened alleys on his side of the street. “It’s nothing, Colonel. Just the weather, I suppose.”

Roy arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Back at Eastern, the sun had been shining, the birds singing, yet the man’s mood had been no different. “Suppose we’ll just have to spread out and look for any trails. Any evidence.” He stopped, looking at the tavern directly in front of him. He could smell the warm flames crackling in the fireplace inside. “But first, I want to get dry and warm for a few minutes. Let’s go.”

In the closest tavern, he and his staff sat together at a couple of small tables in the corner near the fireplace of the large common room. As he peeled his gloves off and set them on the table to dry, he unabashedly ordered a round of drinks for the lot of them, ignoring Riza’s sniff. She declined, asking instead for coffee, black with no sugar. Roy shuddered. Coffee with no sugar was like drinking boiling oil.

“We’ll split up,” he told them after the whiskey warmed him to his fingertips. “Each take a quadrant of this city. And I want to make this clear. No one is to engage this man if they see him. He was cracked when I knew him, and he is probably more cracked now. For your life’s sake, don’t let him get a hand on you. If you do, you’ll more than likely wind up dead. Plain and simple. You see him, you mark his location and you find me.” He split them up in groups of two, with one notable exception.

“Hawkeye,” he captured her eyes. “I want you to take the high ground. Our prey could be anywhere. I want your keen eye on the rooftops.” It was the absolute _last_ place he wanted to send her, but it was probably the first place she would do the best good. The idea of her climbing roofs made his brain twitch in places he didn’t like, but if he was going to show her that he didn’t think her completely useless or helpless, he had to do this. _It was still early days_ , he said to himself, _she’ll be all right._

She accepted his tacit apology with good grace. She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You sure that’s wise?” said Hughes, giving her a look of concern. “Her condi–,”

“Her condition is no longer a point for discussion, Lieutenant Colonel,” Roy said carefully. “She has her orders. And you are with me.”

Maes still looked doubtful, but gave in to the authority Roy put in his voice. This was business, and Roy had point during this mission.

“Let’s go.” He scooped up his gloves and shoved them in an inside pocket, hoping they were dry enough and would stay dry. “Put on your war paint, everyone.”

When they were alone, Maes looked at his friend. “You don’t think you’re going overboard with this plan for letting her know you trust her? Crawling all over the rooftops is not safe for her.”

“Why? She’s not at the, ah, cumbersome stage. She’s not lifting anything heavier than herself and her pair of firearms. She’s just climbing and walking.”

“Still...”

“Maes, please,” Roy said. “Can we talk about this another time? We need to find this bastard. That’s far more important right now.”

Maes sighed, then paused. “Roy, look at this...”

Roy peered at the rough etching in the stone of the wall. It was the same thing as on the scrap of paper Maes’ had given him. “He’s leaving a trail.” he said slowly.

“Like he wants to be found.”

Roy laughed bitterly. “Of course the bastard wants to be found. He always needed an audience.” He rubbed the etching, frowning. “If only we had a way to track this to the next one. Because,” and he gave Maes a look, “you know there’s going to be more of these.”

Maes shook his head. “What the hell is he doing? He doesn’t _need_ explosives.”

“He doesn’t. He’s just doing this as a distraction.”

“A _distraction_ , Roy?” Maes exclaimed.  “He’s setting it up to look like _you_ set fire to these warehouses!”

Roy beat back the fury that threated. “It’s a distraction. If they are busy investigating me, then he can get these explosives to the person that needs them. Unfortunately, he didn’t count on Grumman knowing better.” 

He looked to his left, down an alley black as ink. Pausing, he considered the four shadows he saw for a moment. They resembled common warehouse workers from where he stood.  He took a step in their direction.

A concussive sound ripped through the sky, snatching his attention like a bright thing attracted a bird of prey.  He looked over and up in the direction of the sound, still as stone.

“Northeast from here,” Maes said sharply, the dread rumbling under the surface of Roy’s skin.

“Let’s go.”

 _Northeast_ was the direction Riza had taken across the rooftops.

 


	23. One Maniac at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as she took her first step, her skin began to prickle. It was a familiar feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting ready to head in some pretty dark territory. I'll make sure the warning are clear. This one has some depictions of violence in it, so I'm going to rate this one M for tread lightly for triggers.

 

 

**###**

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 21: One Maniac at a Time**

**Rating: M for Violence**

**Soundtrack: _The Phoenix --- Fall Out Boy_**

 

The warehouse district of Tin City was a dark and ugly maze, situated directly behind the main production plant.  Under most circumstances there would be no cause for complaint; the area had not been built for esthetics, but for practicality. Each of the thirty or so buildings were placed so that they could fit in the smallest possible space.  Again, fine, but not if you were busy moving around at night looking for one shadow among hundreds. Under the night sky, beginning to turn black as ink from sunset, it was almost impossible to tell one warehouse from the next.  The only thing that kept Roy and Maes on track was the glow from the explosion’s aftermath settling low in the sky, illuminating the area and casting wild shadows everywhere.

“You have to tell me what you know about his escape,” Roy said, to keep his mind off of the fact that northeast was the direction Riza had taken across the rooftops.

“There is not much to tell.” Maes shook his head, his eyes sweeping the area in front of them. “No one is even supposed to know he’s escaped. At my level, I don’t know where the bastard went, or who he’s with. All we know is that he got his hands on two rather stupid guards and blasted his way out.”

“Damn.”

“They were new soldiers, and didn't understand the orders to stay out of his reach.”

“And you didn’t see fit to tell me about this?” Roy was mildly annoyed with his friend.

“The whole thing seemed a little too easy for me. I was going to do some more digging.” Maes adjusted the cuffs on his jacket, ensuring that his knives were ready at hand.

Roy heard a light fluttering underneath the sound of the rain pattering around him. He looked up and just managed to pick out a shadow, moving across the roof above him. He squinted, sharpening his vision slightly, and caught a glint of blonde reflecting from the last bit of ambient light around them.  Relief flooded him and he smiled. “Damn, she’s good.”

“You should know that better than anyone else.”

“You’re right.  It really is a good thing she didn’t have to blow my brains out in Ishbal.”

Maes’ stumbled slightly, and Roy could see the thunder-clapped look on Maes’ face through the darkness. “What are you talking about?” his friend asked.

Roy winced at the memory, and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.” He felt a bitter pain somewhere in his gut. “They didn’t trust us – alchemists, I mean. They especially didn’t trust me.”

“But–,”

“Next to Marcoh, I was the most vocally opposed to what they had in mind. And fire is not something to mess around with.”

“I knew that. I was there for that.”

“Did you know that they – those in charge – didn’t think I’d be able to do what they asked me to do? That I would balk at the last minute?” He remembered looking directly into Basque Grand’s eyes and seeing the look of contempt and disgust slide out of the man into the space between them.  Roy knew that Grand had been behind the plan for his assassination the whole time, and remembered the feeling of their eyes on him as he left for his assignment.

He stopped at the intersection between two alleys. There was another symbol, and his time, trails of soot and something else. "He's killed again," he whispered.

Maes looked at the area, knelt to the ground, touching the slick, congealed spot. Roy watched him shudder. "This man is beyond sick."

"He is. Always has been."

"We'll find him."

"Yes. We will."

The silence grew heavy between them, because they both knew what would happen when they found the Crimson Lotus Alchemist. Finally, Maes cleared his throat. “So...Ishbal....”

Roy tugged his collar around his ears. “I knew I wasn’t the most popular of them, but I didn’t know – for sure – that what the plan was if I balked and disobeyed their orders. If I didn’t kill as commanded, I was to be eliminated.” He laughed sourly. “It’s actually ironic. They didn’t mind losing the Flame Alchemist, because they felt they had another powerful firestarter.”  He grimaced.  “They used to pit us against each other.  I think it was fun for them to watch us spark off.”

“Now, I remember _that_. If you two had become friends, Amestris wouldn’t have needed any more alchemists.”

Roy snorted bitterly. “Raze and Ruin, they called us. Anyway, if I wouldn’t use my skills for the betterment of the state, they didn’t want me around to use my skills at all.” Roy finished.

“Damn! And they ordered her to…but...she was just a young girl!”

“Who could shoot the wings off a fly at 200 paces. They chose her because she was so low on the chain. Thought I wouldn’t notice someone so far _beneath me_ scurrying about.” He looked up. “She waited on a roof top. Waited for me to fail. I saw her afterwards.” He bit his lip when he remembered what he’d done in anger when he saw her crouched there.

“But...you didn’t. Fail.”

“No,” Roy bit out. “I didn’t fail.”

“Do you think she would have?”

“Then?” He shrugged. “I still don’t really know. Her father hated what I planned for my alchemy. Fire alchemy was never meant… for that. The first time I saw her after that, she was a Cadet. Not for long, though.”

“She was promoted to Second Lieutenant rather quickly,” Maes said thoughtfully, even as he bent to another trail of soot and debris.

“Yes. And the rest...” he looked up again. She was gone.

“I think I’ll have to do some looking around about this,” Maes murmured. “Can’t have something as cliché as assassination ruining your plans.”

Roy chuckled, determined to shatter then tension coiled in him. The thought of Crimson Lotus – he wouldn’t even grace him with his name – was enough of a reminder of those times, but to remember what Riza had done, and what she hadn’t, was too distracting. “Surprised you haven’t, with all the plotting and planning you did. That reminds me... I do have an off-topic idea I want to shoot past you...”

 

###

 

She took a moment to look around her. Set up like a maze, she could count at least twenty warehouses in close proximity. On the roof of what was probably a laundry – to judge from the chemical smells and smoke coming from the iron chimney – she found one of those symbols, painted on the edge of the roof in a dark, sticky substance. It was too dark to tell, but she shuddered as she expected it was blood. She touched it with her finger, put it to her tongue. The stinging, metallic tang told her. _Fresh_ blood, not yet washed away by the rain.  He was so close.

Trying to lead his pursuers on a wild chase, was he? Riza smiled grimly and unclipped the holster on her left side. She drew her sidearm, as well acknowledging the warm comfort of the other two guns. She saw the fire burning ahead of her. It was a small building about ten buildings away from her. The rumble of the explosion still trembled under her boots, the afterglow still lit up the sky, settled low, illuminating everything around it.

A light murmuring drew her attention down for a split second. She saw two figures moving through the alleyway. They moved into a small patch of light and she identified them as the Colonel and Hughes. She watched them stop and examine a section of wall. Then watched as, still talking, they moved on.

She went toward the blast area. Her roof adjoined another on her right hand side; it wasn’t much of jump and she made it without slipping. She was half grateful that he had let her go off on her own like this. Women had been giving birth since the beginning of time, and had done just as taxing work as her while they were doing it. Her other half did have misgivings, which she pushed away as soon as they cropped up. She didn’t have time to wonder if she was doing a smart thing. They _had_ to find this man, find out what he was doing and why.

And then, she knew, that the Colonel would have to destroy him. There was no way that Kimblee would be allowed to live, after the carnage he had wrought and the damage he had done. He’d attempted to pull the Colonel into his warped plot, and Mustang would not allow it. Anything that threatened his plan to the top would have to be eliminated, passively or aggressively.  There was nothing about his ambition that was easy or alluring, and no doubt the Colonel half-dreaded his task. It had been a long time since the Colonel had killed; she knew what it would do to him. It would not be pretty.

The roof was being used for surplus storage, she noticed. As soon as she took her first step, her skin began to prickle. It was a familiar feeling. She could almost taste the danger and the _presence_ sliding through the air around her. She examined her surroundings carefully, staying close to the edge so no one could come behind her, picking out every shadow, checking for movement, any kind of shift in the stillness.

There were oiled leather tarps carefully covering piles of wooden crates scattered over the roof, a good five piles in all. During daylight hours, it was probably a place for workers to take a quick break. At night, though, they became perfect cover if someone were to wish for a hiding place. Her eyes narrowed.

 _Pat-pat-pat-PAT-pat._ The rain pattering on the tarps obscured her hearing slightly; still, when she concentrated she couldn’t pick up any sounds out of the ordinary. She crept closer to the first pile, gun aimed and ready.

Nothing. Not even the scurry of rodents or scavenger birds looking for scraps. That in itself sent her instincts screeching. Creatures like them fled from humans, and she hadn’t been on the roof long enough to send anything scurrying. She moved to the second pile, looking for anything, another symbol, a crate with any odd marking. Still nothing.

That feeling kept scratching at her. There was _something_ here, or had been here, some piece of incriminating evidence; she knew it. She went toward the third pile. If there had been someone here, she would have picked them out by now. Now she was looking for something else, something, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it should be.

She just knew that it was _here_. Hiding in plain sight, in a spot that most would have dismissed as too easy a target. No one would look in such an obvious place, would they?

 _She would_.

The third pile was the smallest. Only three... no, four, crates, covered carelessly, near the eastern edge of the building. As she crept around it, she noticed that one of the crates was of a brighter shade than the others. It could have been a different type of wood, or it could have been placed there well after the others, but she closed in to take a closer look. She heard in the periphery the sound of glass shattering, possibly the windows of the bombed building finally giving in to the heat contained inside.

A wet darkness wrapped itself around her head quicker than she could process, stealing her breath, taking away her orientation. It was a hood, or a cloth bag, now being pulled tight around her neck. A nasty jerk of the rope, and she was yanked completely off of her feet. She hit the ground hard, her finger squeezing the trigger of the gun, releasing one round into the air. The report was louder than natural in the forced darkness. She groped at the closure around her neck with her hands, her legs kicking impotently. Then she was being dragged by the same rope, choking, gasping, and struggling like a hooded and jessed bird.

The constriction around her neck loosened as a steel grip closed around her wrist, and a boot landed on her shoulder. She cried out, muffled, as she felt the shoulder dislocate. She tried to reach her other hand for the gun at her back. Gravel bit into her pinned shoulder, and she could feel it dislocating more as she struggled.

Her assailant flipped her until she was on her stomach, pinning her arms back and tying them with the rope. Her chin bounced off of the ground and she saw stars. Her legs were pulled legs back and she wound up hog-tied, still struggling.  She was rolled onto a side, then she was scraped further along, tasting blood in her mouth where she bit her tongue, feeling the roughness of the ground beneath her side. The way the rope was being held, she could tell, kept her in a neat prone package, head slightly lifted, constricting around her neck every time she tried to struggle.

She suddenly heard a voice, low and feral, like a wild cat licking across her nerves. “Show me how tough you are, little bird.”

Finally, the dragging stopped, but only long enough for her to be jerked up and imprisoned by an arm around her middle like an iron bar. She struggled then when she felt the rope slack from around her neck.  She tried to make it as hard as possible for him to hold onto her, hoping he would drop her so she could at least try to roll away.

It hadn’t gained her freedom; it only made one arm tighten. Something hard contacted the back of her head, ratting her skull and causing a ringing in her ears like a temple bell. She gasped and shook her head. And a second grip, this time around her neck, constricted her airway once again. She gasped, panted, screamed inside her head. _Air, she needed air. No,_ they _needed air. Oh, God, they needed air, the two of them_ , and then it wasn’t just the hand taking her oxygen it was fear choking her reminding her that she wasn’t the only one being threatened on this rooftop.

“Don’t be stupid, little bird,” the voice growled in the vicinity of her ear. “I can finish this right here if you don’t stop.  Would you like that? Would you like me to do that?”

She struggled a few more seconds, until she let herself fall limp in her attacker’s arms.  He didn’t release his grip until right before darkness began to claim her. Air rushed into her lungs, but it wasn’t quite enough to keep her from tumbling into total blackness.

 


	24. Strike a Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gunshot cracked through the sky like thunder, and the hair on the back of Roy’s neck stood at full attention.
> 
> ]o[
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual Intimidation/Violence

 

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 22: Strike a Match**

**Rating: M for Violence**

**Trigger Warning: Sexual Intimidation/Violence**

**Soundtrack: _The Phoenix --- Fall Out Boy_**

 

The gunshot cracked through the sky like thunder, and the hair on the back of Roy’s neck stood at full attention. Roy and Maes turned in the direction of the sound, but it was Maes who was off like lightning, headed toward the place from which the sound came. Roy followed, pulling a glove from his pocket in preparation for what he might face. Rain or not, he would figure this out.

He skid to halt beside his friend, who was standing, panting, and looking up at a roof. “There,” Maes gasped. “It came from there.”

Roy looked up. It was a few rooftops from where he’d last seen Riza. Now...there was nothing.

He heard footsteps and spun, holding out his hand, ready to strike. Havoc slid around the corner, with Fuery hot on his heels. He clenched his hand into a fist and concentrated. He started a litany in his head: _keep it together, keep it together. You don’t know what happened. Keep it together._

“How are we going to get up there?” Havoc said after Maes filled him in.

“The same way _they_ got up there?”

“They?” Roy croaked at Fuery.

Fuery, eyes round and wide, offered, “I don’t think the First Lieutenant would shoot at nothing, sir.”

“Hey!” Maes called from around the corner. They ran to the site, and saw him climbing a metal ladder on the side of the building. “Come on.”

Each one of them scrambled up. When they reached the top, they were faced with nothing more than a rooftop packed with crates, covered with tarps. They each took a section of the roof to search, but found nothing to indicate anyone had even been up there. At first, Roy angrily thought that perhaps Maes had been mistaken and was about to tell him so in no uncertain terms, when his foot kicked something hard and heavy that skated across the gravel for a foot before spinning to a stop.

A gun.

Roy’s heart stopped as he closed in on it. He would have known it anywhere. He reached down to pick it up.

“Don’t touch it!” Maes shouted, freezing him where he stood.

_Riza would have never have left her gun behind._

“How in the hell did they get off the roof so fast,” Havoc cursed. 

“I don’t know...” Roy said, his voice deep with suppressed rage. “But I can tell you she didn’t leave this roof of her own free will.” He indicated the drag marks and followed them with his eyes.  They ended at the far end of the roof.

Maes came close and looked down at the ground, staring at the gun.

Roy’s gaze grabbed at Maes. It was as close to pleading as he would come aside from his usual dissembling. A thousand unspoken words flew between them, the first and foremost a plaintive request from somewhere near Roy’s boots.

Maes looked at the others on the roof, and looked back at Roy. “I...”

“Please, Maes.”

Reluctance skittered through the green eyes for a microsecond, but then closed them, as if in thought. Or prayer.

When Maes opened them, the first thing he did was look at Havoc and Fuery. “What you see here stays here, got it?” He barked, freezing the two officers where he stood. He waited until he received an affirmative response then turned back to the gun on the ground.

Roy watched, riveted, as Maes reached in a pocket. “This is _not_ going to be easy, Roy. I don’t have much to work with.” Pulling out a small scrap of chalk, he began to draw on the ground. Roy followed the simple pattern with his eyes, noticing Maes’ economy of motion. The man didn’t waste time with embellishments or subtlety; his was a simple and straight-forward alchemy. Comprehending, deconstructing and reconstructing.  But the matter he exchanged was very finite. There was no guarantee that he had enough to do what he needed to do.

“Roy...” Maes began.

“I know...Just...please,” Roy said, just shy of begging.

“Give me the gun. Carefully. Keep your gloves on.”

Roy handed it over, hanging from his finger in the trigger hole with shaking hands.

Maes look a long breath, and exhaled. He looked down at the transmutation circle and gingerly placed the gun in the center. Then, before anyone could blink, he laid his hands palm down on the edge of the drawing.

Blue-green light sparked down Maes’ hands and into the array. There it lingered for a heartbeat before crawling slowly over the gun, leaving golden trails here and there across the metal. Maes looked up at Roy, relief in his gaze. “Sweat.”

Roy jaw muscle twitch. “Her condition. Makes her palms sweat.”

Maes nodded, smiling grimly. “Good thing.”

Roy watched the glowing light, trailing off into a pattern, like sand poured in two lines. Maes had an unbelievable knowledge of the human body, and knew that each one was different from the other.  While the general chemical makeup was the same, there were delicate differences, something in the codex that was the human being that made each one individual. Riza’s sweat was uniquely hers; he calculated the composition, broke it down, and then used what was on the gun to seek for more of it. _Like finding like._ Roy followed the faint trail it as it meandered, narrow in places, and in places wide and circular, like a hurricane pattern.

“She was fighting as she was taken,” Maes concluded.

_Of course she was._ Roy cursed.

The light continued across the roof, the trail going smaller and smaller, toward one the stacks of crates on the roof. Now the trail was almost negligible, but it scattered small, golden dots around the edge of the tarp.

Roy ran toward it, skidding to a stop and looking down. He snatched the tarp from the crates, considered the stack for a moment and noted that, of the boxes there, one was stacked neater than the rest, and it was stacked alone. He waved Maes over; Havoc followed the Lieutenant Colonel, his rifle at the ready.

Pushing the other boxes aside, Maes and Roy looked carefully around the ground around the last box. Maes hesitated for a heartbeat, then drew his circle on the box, touched it lightly. It lit up like a Solstice torch. Some of the glow was golden, some was a feverish red, the sign of another person in contact with the surface.

Roy didn’t hesitate.  He dragged the box to the right and saw the trap door beneath it. In the back of his mind, he could picture Riza, examining one of the other stacks and not hearing the noise over the patter of the rain.  Perhaps she had examined the stack; perhaps she hadn’t reached it yet. Either way, the manner in which her assailant moved on her clued him in to the insidious nature of the predator.

One of the only skills Roy admired about the Crimson Lotus Alchemist was his ability to move stealthily. The way he could move up on a victim, whether inanimate or not, was flawless.  Most never saw him coming and when they did they were too late. A trembling started from the soles of Roy’s feet, and traveled through his body as he reached forward, looking for the way to open the trap door. _If he touched Riza…_

_If he had, she wouldn’t be alive, and we would know it._

He found the hidden catch and carefully swung the door open.  The residuals from Maes’ alchemy picked up the trail again, continuing, straight and sure, through the hole and stopped about halfway down a metal ladder, trickling into a small smattering of red and gold spots. Without a second thought, he climbed in the hole and down. He didn’t even care if the others followed.

Dropping the last foot to the floor, he peered into the darkness, hoping beyond hope he’d reach the end of the trail. All that met him was darkness, unrelieved and not alive. He could sense the walls on either side of him, and knew he was in a narrow corridor. He heard the others dropping down behind him, then heard the flick of Havoc’s lighter.

“Stay back, sir.” A small circle illuminated the Second Lieutenant’s face as he moved in front of his commanding officer, followed by Maes.

Roy could barely see a half-foot in front of him, but he heard the scratching of what could only be Maes drawing his circle again. He watched the flicker of Havoc’s lighter dip toward the ground, where Maes probably crouched and saw the blue-green flash when his friend activated the circle.  Interestingly, he only saw a red trail, but it shone bright and true, in a thick band down the corridor. He wanted to cast a flame to see by, but knew better than to show his hand so soon.

A few more yards and again the blue-green light, sparking and sorting itself into the trail that Maes had gathered from the chemicals.

“Nothing here, sir,” Jean said, holding the lighter in front of him so he could see.

“Sir?” It was Fuery. Roy turned toward him, and looked at what the Master Sergeant was holding in his hand. When Roy saw it, fear clotted with rage in the throat and he took the thing, turned it in his hands.

“That her hair clip?” Maes asked. “Even better. Give it to me.”

Roy took the clip from Feury’s hand then froze. _He’d sent her up there. And this had happened._ It took three tries from Maes before he even acknowledged the other’s voice.

“Colonel!” Maes stood in front of him, called directly into his face. “You’ve got to pull it together. I can find her. I promise you, with that I can find her. Give me the clip.”

Roy blinked, then glared. “Then do it. Now.”

Maes took the clip and examined it quickly and carefully.  He saw what he wanted and carefully pulled strands of hair from the fastener of the clip.  It was a treasure trove of the chemical makeup of Riza Hawkeye. This time the trail picked up, a strange, fine line moving around the red trail. It was confirmed; he had her.  The trail led quite a distance away, before fading into what looked like tiny grains.

Roy didn’t recall how many times Maes had to Seek, but he knew he would owe his friend so much for this. Maes had held the secret of his alchemy close to his chest for many years, using it only when there was no other choice. It was but one weapon in the fortified arsenal used to get Roy to the top and he prized it above many others.

His enemy was taunting him, Roy knew.  The explosion had been a diversion, meant to lead them into a trap.  But, Kimblee knew that they had heard the shot, and knew that Roy’s team would double back and follow.  He even probably hoped they would follow. The bastard enjoyed thinking on his feet, improvising as he moved along.  He was damned good at it, too. Kimblee was drawing out his game, teasing, taunting.  He thought he had them in his control and that he could play this game out however he wanted.

But there was a flaw in Kimblee’s plan.

Kimblee thought he had all the time in the world.

“There she is,” Maes said softly, and the four men watched the trail move like quicksilver across the floor and through a door on the other side of the room.

]o[

Riza came awake all at once, gasping for air. The hood was gone from her head, but the darkness snatched any evidence of her location before she had a chance to orient herself. The first thing she did was still and concentrate on her body, trying to feel for any injuries. Any pains. Anything that would have confirmed the worst of her fears. The only thing that screamed at her were her shoulders, the right dislocated and the left almost so from being pulled up where her hands were tied above her head.

From...elsewhere...there was nothing. No twinge, no cramps, only a vague sense of nausea that probably derived from her fear for her unborn child. Her relief was immense; surely after such rough handling, she would have felt something had she been miscarrying. She hoped.

Then her feelings crystallized into the coldest of fears when she heard that lit-fuse, rasping chuckle again.

“Awake, little bird?”

There was a pop and a flash, and tiny circle of flame appeared in front of her. _Fake flame alchemy,_ she knew it for what it was. Only a rudimentary form of it, just enough to illuminate. She hoped it cost him a lot.

The flame lit a face she remembered. She looked into the black holes of his eyes, the shadows masking any bit of humanity that might have been there.

She made her own gaze harden. “They _will_ find me.”

White teeth flashed. “Oh, I count on that. The little firestarter won’t let his little _tiercelet_ get too far from her perch, will he?”

As much as she wanted to speak, Riza made herself stay silent. She wouldn’t rise to this creature’s bait. She wouldn’t engage him, because that was what he wanted. She would wait.

“I remember you, you know. Do you remember me?”

“Fortunately, I don’t,” she lied.  She remembered this psychotic bastard. _Raze and Ruin. Two sides of the same coin._ He was Ruin. Appropriately nicknamed.

“Hmm. Too bad. You were a tough little thing.” He reached out a hand.

_“Do not let him touch you,”_ he heard Roy’s voice clearly in her mind. There was no telling what would happen if he touched her. She not only remembered him, but remembered his unique specialty in alchemy. The actual theory lay somewhere on her back, below the last of her left ribs. She ducked her head from his reach, her eyes riveted on the array on the palm of his hand.

“I remember you had this smudge of dirt on your little nose.” He chuckled again. The sound sliced across her spine. “Precious.”

He tilted his head. “Did he get you to sing for him, little bird?” he asked. “All he had to do was crook his little finger, and they would all sing for him. Did it work for you?”

Riza sneered, but held her tongue.

“Well, no matter. He’ll find you. And then I’ll have him.” Kimblee stood, stretching slowly. “It took him long enough to get on this case.”

She risked a few words, beyond curious. “You… did all of this to get him?”

He looked at her. “Oh, she has a voice!” Then he shook his head. “That was just a benefit. I have a larger reason for what I’ve been doing.” He reached out again, this time managing to run his hand through her hair. “But, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it right now. You should concern yourself with what I intend to do to you.”

Riza didn’t like the way that sounded, or the look in those burning holes the man called eyes.

]o[

Maes was getting tired. The energy he expended on the Seeking was taking its toll. But he wouldn’t stop, not until they got close enough to track them on their own. There had to be something there, something they could use to follow.

Ah, there. He grabbed Roy by the arm and jerked him to the evidence of dragging he’d found on the ground. “Here,” he said, slightly breathless.

Roy stared, his jaw working furiously. “For every inch he dragged her...”

“It’s only for a few feet, but...”

“It’s good enough.” Roy placed a hand on Maes’ shoulder. “Thank you, friend. I owe you much for this.”

“Just save a piece of the bastard for me.”

“How about I let you carve his heart out with one of those knives?”

“Sounds fair.”

“Don’t forget about us, sir,” Havoc growled from somewhere behind them.

Roy looked back. “Don’t worry. You’ll all get your chance. But the _coup de grace_ goes to me. Understand?”

“Once we find out what he was doing and who he was doing it for,” Maes reminded.

Roy just looked at him. Maes held himself from a flinch, wondering if this was what his friend looked like on the fields of Ishbal.

]o[

“I’m sure it will take them some time to find us,” Kimblee told her, still moving closer. Riza held herself still, even though every instinct in her screamed to scurry away from this creature, stay out of his reach. “It’ll get boring while we wait.”

“They _will_ find us.”

“So you said,” He ran wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger. “But what shall I do while I wait?”

“Don’t touch me,” Riza blurted, then cursed herself.

Kimblee laughed. “I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what to do, little bird.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? Don’t you like little endearments?” He leaned in. “What does _he_ call you when no one is around, hmm? Does _he_ have a little pet name for you?” His mouth hovered around her ear, so close she could feel his lips. “Does _he_ have a name for you that makes you shiver?”

“He calls me Lieutenant,” she growled, leaned back and spit in his face.

He sat back and wiped the spittle from the side of his face. Then, he balled up his hand and cold-cocked her in the jaw. Her head snapped back, connecting with the wall behind her. Dazed, she shook her head, tried to clear her vision as he leaned in again.

“Do that again and I’ll blast you like a holiday torch.”

“I’d rather you do that than come near me again.”

“Oh really?” His mouth twisted into a parody of a smile as he closed a hand around her neck. “Would you rather?” He trailed his palm down her front, halting somewhere below her navel. “Well. What is this? What is this extra bit of something I sense here? There’s a little more of you here than meets the eye, little bird. Isn’t there?”

Her eyes widened and she remembered. He could use the composition of her body to form his explosives. He could pull them from her and fashion them into ignition and fuel. He knew exactly how much of what was in a human body.

He could tell if there was more than should be. He could feel the child resting there.

“How would you like it if I exploded this little… thing inside of you instead?” He shifted so he was even closer, his breath circling her ear and crawling down the side of her neck. “I’m sure it won’t hurt much.”

A small sob escaped her, despite her best efforts to hold it behind her teeth.

“I could do that, you know.” He shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter. He’d still find us. He’d just have a little surprise waiting for him that he didn’t expect.”

“No.” Riza bit out.

The head tilted again. “I wonder... whose little spawn is this?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Indeed. That tells me what I need to know.”

She noticed with growing dread he hadn’t moved his hand.

“No. I don’t think I’ll heat things up quite yet. At least, not that way.”

]o[

“Sir,” Havoc said as they moved through the dark streets and dank alleyways. “The Lieutenant Colonel...he...”

“Is an alchemist. Yes.”

“But, how–,”

“Long story, Jean. Just keep what you’ve seen to yourself. No one – and I mean no one is to know about it. If the wrong person were to find out–,”

“He would become another weapon for the state.”

Roy grunted an affirmative.

“And that would do you no good in getting where you want to be.”

Roy turned and stared at Havoc.

“Geez, give me some credit, Mustang. I know what your ambitions are. I know it’s more than jokes and empty claims. That’s why I’m here.”

Roy blinked.

“I believe in what you want.” He peered into an open door of an abandoned building. “When you become Fuhrer, people won’t have to become weapons. They won’t be held hostage to their abilities. Our men won’t be forced to be killers to survive.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed.  That was the most succinct thing he’d heard come from Havoc’s mouth in a long, long time.

“The others believe in you too. _All_ of them. We all have your back, sir. When the time comes, we’ll be there.”

Roy caught the inflection in Havoc’s tone.  _All of them_.  He wondered what was meant by that. 

“If we didn’t believe in you, none of us would have accepted your offer to become part of your staff.”

Roy had nothing to say to that. He had never really been sure if they truly believed in his ability to reach his goal, or if they were just following orders.

“Remember. In order for me to know what I know... I had to spend some time talking with the Lieutenant Colonel about your – ah-hem – situation.”

Roy nodded, unable to speak. His mind was busy processing too many variables. Now, to find out that he _truly_ had his people’s support, now, when it was possible that—his mind shied away from that thought.

Havoc read it all over his face. “Sir, we’ll find her.”

_He'd sent her there._

And then he heard it. Softly, but from a few buildings away.

A cry. A sob of fear. In a voice he would have recognized had he been on the other side of the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This little arc was hard to get through, but we're almost to the end. Hang in there folks, more happy times will be coming!


	25. I'm the Pain You Tasted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s useless in the rain. He’s helpless without a spark. I can do what I do anywhere. Anytime.” His hand moved lower, wandered slowly along her waistband. “Would you like to find out how well?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Heads up, the violence towards Riza continues but it WILL end this chapter. Attempted sexual assault; battery;violence

]o[  ]o[   ]o[

 

 

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 23: I’m the Pain You Tasted**

**Rating: M for violence**

**Soundtrack: _Firestarter --- the Prodigy_**

 

 

The heat of his breath lingered on her neck.

“Perhaps I can get you to sing for me,” Kimblee whispered, then his tongue darted out, circling her ear.

Riza shivered in disgust, feeling as if he’d just doused her body in acid.

“He took my teacher. He got all the accolades. He got all of the promotions, the recognition. _The Hero of Ishbal._ ” He was saying, even as his hand started wandering again. “What can he do? Nothing without a spark. I can touch anything....” his hand cupped one breast, squeezed. “And set it aflame. Any...thing.”

Riza started struggling again, in pure instinct to get away.

“He’s useless in the rain. He’s helpless without a spark. I can do what I do _anywhere_. _Anytime_.” His hand moved lower, wandered slowly along her waistband. “Would you like to find out how well?”

Riza couldn’t keep it back any longer. “No...”

His breath was hot and slick on her neck. “Why not? Once they’re finish with _him_ , you won’t have anything to keep you warm anymore.” His palm flattened on her stomach again, moved in slow circles. “Because, I’m not stupid. I know that this little...thing...came from him. I know it like I know you’ll like what I can do to you.”

“Bastard.”

“More than likely.” A hand reached up and encircled her bound wrists. “What are you going to do about it? You’re useless without your hands.”

She itched to kick him. Her leg even twitched; he felt it, and sneered into her face.

“You touch me, bitch, and you know what will happen to you,” he spat.

And he took the hem of her shirt in both hands and tugged in opposite directions.  It tore straight up the middle, laying her bare to his gaze.

Riza clenched her teeth, but couldn’t keep the scream from escaping.

In the Academy, soldiers – female _and_ male – had been counseled that this thing could happen any time in battle. They’d been advised to submit and preserve their lives. She thought she’d been conditioned to handle it, but she didn’t know if she could. Submission was not part of her nature.

She was glad that she only cried out, made a random sound. Not screamed the name that had been on the tip of her tongue. She wouldn't give this animal the satisfaction of knowing that he was right.

 

]o[

 

The four men in the street froze at the sound.

Waited for it come again.

The shriek that followed made Roy’s blood curdle in his veins. And he was running, like the scream was a lodestone pulling him directly to its source.  He knew it was a short outburst, but it felt like the echo bounced around his mind, guiding him, pulling him.

About a hundred feet away, he picked out the tiny glow from the inside of the building. It was him.

When he would have ran straight into the maelstrom, Maes suddenly jerked him back just as they reached the building and slammed him against a wall, planting a palm in the center of his chest. Roy growled into his friend’s face then saw the glint of metal between Maes’ fingers and the cold look in his eye. Roy watched impotently as Maes peered around the corner. He watched his friend’s expression, to read what he was seeing the room. He saw the color wash from Maes, casting his skin in an eerie glow. Maes muttered something unintelligible before he let the knife fly.

There was sick, gasping sound, then an odd rustle and Roy couldn’t stand it anymore. He rushed around Maes and pushed his way into the room.

He saw _her_ , tied to a pipe above her head. Pinioned and jessed and wild. His gaze skirted over her, concentrating on the pulse at her throat, trying to ignore the fact that her shirt… _She’s alive._

The flash of something passed by the side of his head, the breeze from it ruffling his hair. He turned. Kimblee was laying on the ground, scrabbling at the knife protruding from his left hand. He was twisted and twitching, and Roy could see the other knife sticking out from his right hand. And he hadn’t even seen Maes throw the second knife.

Roy’s lip curled in a nasty grin.

“Sir, allow me.” Havoc’s voice stopped him from raising his hand. He watched in mute, frustrated fury as the Second Lieutenant stepped around him, gun raised. Roy cried out, but too late as bullets tore through the air and into first one kneecap, then the other.

Havoc holstered his gun. “He definitely won’t be moving now. He’s all yours, sir.”

Roy looked over once again at Riza. Fuery was standing in front of her, untying her hands; Maes was trying to get her breathing returned to normal. His gaze moved quickly over her, unable to register everything he saw. _Not yet. Not yet._

_Mostly alive._ He’d wanted to take him mostly alive. Not an option anymore.

“Get her out of here,” Roy ordered over his shoulder, his voice implacable.

Havoc scooped Riza into his arms, ignoring her weak protests to the contrary. “I’ve got orders, ma’am,” was all he said as he rushed her from the building.

Fuery stopped and stood next to Kimblee’s writing form. He pulled back a foot and kicked the man in the side of his head. Then he followed Havoc and Riza out.

“All of you; leave!” Roy spat.

“Roy…” Maes said in a tense, deep voice.

Roy spun and glared at his friend.  “ _Leave._ ”

“Mostly alive, Roy.”

“ _LEAVE!_ ”

He waited, taking deep, gasping, and calming breaths.  When he couldn’t hear them behind him, Roy returned his regard to the mewling, twitching creature on the ground. He moved snatching the knife from Kimblee’s palm, ignoring the scream coming from his victim.  He moved toward an iron bar lying on the floor, and knelt down, scratching a quick circle on into the concrete floor.  He spun when he heard Kimblee scrabbling and growled, a fierce, bestial sound.  _Mostly alive my ass._

Roy snatched a knife from Kimblee’s hand, wiped it off, and scratched a transmutation circle into the ground.  He transmuted the bar into a chain, then moved again, snatching Kimblee up by his collar and dragging him to the pipe. The other alchemist couldn’t even struggle through his pain.  It was an easy thing to string the bastard from the same pipe from where Riza had been hanging, hands spread so he could not touch them together.

He stood there, watching Kimblee spin and growl impotently.

“How’s that feel?” Roy asked, closing on the other alchemist.

Kimblee laughed, spitting blood toward Roy, spattering his great coat.

Roy backhanded him. “You _dare_ to _try_ and use flame alchemy to frame me?” He grabbed the man by the throat. “What a pitiful attempt. Why would you do something so stupid?”

Kimblee laughed.  “You won’t find out from _me_ ,” he rasped. “Just know...there is...more to this...than you’ll ever....know.”

“You always thought I was inferior to you, didn’t you,” Roy said, pacing a semi-circle around his prey. “Just because _you_ could start things just by a touch.”

“Little...firestarter...”

Roy laughed, an ugly sound. “Yes. That’s me. The little firestarter, the Raze to your Ruin. You always hated that I got my certification before you. Got my promotions before you.” He sneered. “You always hated that I wouldn’t become your little fiendish partner.”

Kimblee stilled his twisting and pierced Roy with a look born of conflagrations.

“You thought to frame me?” Roy shook his head. “I can’t believe you went through all of this to have some sort of revenge. No, this must be an afterthought. There must be more.” He tightened his hand. “Tell me.”

“Had… to be… sure…”

“Sure of what?”

Kimblee croaked out a laugh. “You’ll know soon enough,” he rasped.

Roy pulled his gun. Useless, was he? Aimed and pulled the trigger. He wasn’t as good as his First Lieutenant, but he didn’t need to be.

Kimblee howled. The blood was pumping from the wound to his thigh, exactly where Roy knew the artery would be.

“Think I’m stupid? Havoc’s aim was a bit too low.” He pointed the gun. “You want to try for somewhere else? I thought not.” He holstered the gun and held up his hand again. He could feel dampness wicking through the ignition cloth, rendering the thing ineffective. He frowned slightly.

Kimblee caught the expression and tried to laugh around the blood slowly leeching his life away. “Useless...sonofabitch...”

Roy cocked an eyebrow. Just then, he remembered something Kimblee had told him on the eve of their rampage through the Dahlia sector: ‘ _the one thing worse than death is to avert your eyes from it. Look straight at the people you kill. Don’t take your eyes off them for a second. And don’t ever forget them, because I promise that they won’t forget you.’_

 

So he captured and pinned Kimblee with his gaze. “You’re right. _These gloves_ are rubbish in the rain.” The tiny flame caught the sparkle of the metal in the center of his palm. Havoc’s lighter, pressed into his hand as he entered the room. “But this isn’t.”

Kimblee’s eyes widened.

Roy spun the flint wheel with his finger. It gave him the spark he needed.

 

]o[

 

“Put me down.”

Havoc acted as if he hadn’t heard her, and continued moving until he reached the other side of the street.

“Havoc,” Riza repeated, squirming a little. “Put me down.”

As soon as he was able, he stopped. “Are you sure, sir?”

She glowered, noticing that he’d reverted back to calling her ‘sir’, rather than that annoying ‘ma’am’. “You _have_ to put me down. Now.”

“If you’re still hurt–,”

Riza looked over at Hughes, asking with her eyes for some help.

“Havoc, put her down,” Hughes said. “Really. He can’t see her like this.”

Havoc looked own at her, flushed, and allowed her to slip out of his arms and place her feet on the ground. For a split second she wavered unsteadily.

“You see?” Havoc said, pointing. “She–,”

“I’m _all right_.” Riza re-oriented herself and looked toward the building.

There was a bright flash and swirling sound coming from inside, a piercing shriek, and then she heard the unmistakable sound of crackling flames.

“Dammit, Roy,” she heard Hughes rumble.

She didn’t have much time. She tried to right her shirt as much as she could, cursing the fact that she’d lost her hair clip in her struggles. Maes swung his coat over her shoulders, shielding what she couldn’t from view. Her shoulders screamed at her, reminding her that one was dislocated and one almost so. But, she didn’t have time for that right now. She had to straighten herself out before _he_ came out of that building.

“Here.”

She looked up from her hair clip into Hughes’ tired eyes. Quickly, she twisted her hair and put it back to rights. Then she realized–,

She almost laughed as his hand appeared again, this time holding her gun. “I wish I knew how you found us.” she murmured, clipping the gun back into its holster. She still felt naked without the second gun, but it was surely better than being completely defenseless.  Like she’d been in that room. _The weight of the chains pulled at her, imprisoning her under that filthy stare._

Hughes nodded. She noted shadows in his eyes, but refrained from asking any questions, other than, “How do I look?”

“It’s enough.”

And just in time. The sound of the firestorm snuffed out just as quickly as he had been started. Roy– _the Colonel_ –strode from the building, peeling off his gloves. He looked neither left nor right as the crossed the street, his eyes riveted to his task. When he made it to them, he finally looked up and locked gazes with her. She willed him to look anywhere else, because she could see everything filling his eyes. Things that he couldn’t share in the middle of this street in front of some of these people.

“First Lieutenant,” he started, his voice startling her in the quiet that surrounded them. He looked her up and down, noted the uniform back in place, her hair in its proper configuration. “You’re all right?”

_No, I’m not all right. I need you. It hurts where he touched me. No._

She nodded. “I’ll survive.”

“Good.” He started to turn away, then noticed the bruise across her jaw. She saw his eyes narrow, his hand lift slightly, and his lips part to say something, but she turned away before it could cross the air between them. “What is Kimblee’s status?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded almost like normal.

_The pain of that blow felt better than anything else he had done...and tried to do to her. I need you._

The Colonel paused for an eternal minute, then he looked at Havoc and Fuery. “Get that bastard down. We’ll release him into Lieutenant General’s custody.”

“He’s…” Maes began.

“Mostly alive,” the Colonel said, sneering. We’re heading straight to Grumman and then we’re going home. I’m done with this.”

“Roy we have to go back to the guest house first,” Maes said carefully.  “The First Lieutenant--,”

Mustang held up a hand.  That effectively shut everyone down.  He turned then and looked directly at Riza. She clutched the coat tighter around herself, but it was futile gesture.  She saw his jaw tighten at a quick flash of exposed skin and she almost expected him to turn back to finish Kimblee.  “Fine,” he said.  “Back to the guest house.  Then to Grumman.” He flicked a look at Havoc and Fuery.  “Get moving.”

Havoc split a look between his Colonel and First Lieutenant, then nodded once. Fuery also fixed them with a myopic regard, but his did nothing more than salute and move off with the Second Lieutenant.

Riza walked slowly between Hughes and the Colonel, holding the greatcoat closed, her shoulder wailing in pain, her wrists aching, her head throbbing where she hit the wall after Kimblee punched her. Her stomach still churned, but fortunately there were no pains where she feared they would be. The other pains were a normal part of combat, something she could take for at least the length of time it took her to get to her room. But, as for the other...if she’d felt one twinge, she would have collapsed right there in the street.

And she was mortified by that feeling. She’d heard of plenty of women who lost all control when they were pregnant, who let their emotions grab them by the short hairs and run them ragged, but she never once expected her to be counted among them. But, as she walked silent between these two men, she wanted to fall into their arms and shake, and weep with relief that there were no pains, nothing to indicate that anything was wrong with her precious baby.

 

She didn’t. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She could see the shadows in Roy’s – _the Colonel’s_ – eyes. He wanted to say that it was all his fault for sending her up above the city by herself. She couldn’t allow that. He was their commander, he had to know that his decision was valid, and it had been the best for the time at hand. And it was. She was a trained, born and bred sniper. Her eyes were keener than anyone else in their group. Only Havoc came close to her skills, and he was still a far cry away from her. She was the best to put above the city, given the bird’s eye view, as it was.

It wasn’t his fault that she’d allowed herself to be captured by the enemy. It wasn’t his fault that she managed to put herself at extreme risk by some careless act she had yet to pinpoint. And she couldn’t indicate by look, word, or deed that she had any doubt in his command.

The guesthouse was quiet when they returned. The few people there gaped unabashedly, especially when they moved the crispy Kimblee through the lobby and up to the desk.

The last thing Riza saw before she was led up the stairs with the other was the Colonel dropping his pocket watch on top of the reception desk.


	26. Where the Rain Gets In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, Kimblee, with just a couple of well-placed touches, and with his psychosis full blown and frightening beyond belief, managed to press through. Now she had to come up with a way to fix the hole left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! We're through that arc finally! Now, Riza is recovering, and soon we'll get to see what's going on over at Eastern without her calming presence.

 

**]o[   ]o[   ]o[**

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 24: Where the Rain Gets In**

**Rating PG**

**Soundtrack: _Fixing a Hole – the Beatles_**

 

She was opening the door to her room when she heard his voice behind her. Looking up reluctantly, she saw that the hallway was deserted but for his shadowy form a few paces away. He only moved one step toward her, enough for her to see him under a hallway light.

“Riza...”

“No.” She cut him off. She couldn’t hear him, couldn’t look at him, right then, not when she just wanted to curl around herself and sleep away the pain and the fear and the revulsion.

There was also something she needed to do so that she could put the threat to her psyche behind her.

He tried again. His voice was deep and trembling, vibrating through her. “I shouldn’t have sent you up there.”

She turned to him and snared him with her gaze. _No. None of this was not his fault._ “I was the best person for the job,” she told him. “You know that and I know that.”

“Yes,” he whispered, allowing that, but not releasing himself from responsibility. “But--,

“No, Colonel,” she hissed back. “Not now.” She moved to stand in front of him and placed a hand gently on his arm.  He grasped it and waited. “Tomorrow, I’ll need you,” she told him at last, trying to make him understand. “Tonight, I need this.”

He sighed; the nodded. She wasn’t sure he understood, but right now that didn’t matter. She could feel him standing there still, even as she opened her door and walked into her room.

She waited a moment, hoping he wouldn’t try to come in, forcing her to lock her door to him. Finally, she could hear his steps moving away. She sighed.

She did lock the door that connected her room to the room next door – his.

The room was sparse; an overstuffed double bed, two rustic nightstands, a small secretary, with a few sheets of complimentary stationery fanned out over the top and a utilitarian fountain pen. On one nightstand sat a delicately decorated ceramic washbasin, pitcher, and on the floor, the ubiquitous and obsolete chamber pot. All she needed. She checked that her rucksack was still tucked under the bed and that her night clothes lay over the chair. On that nightstand, she saw the folder with the information for their mission.  Picking it up, she stuffed it securely in her rucksack and pushed the thing back under the bed.

Then, she tried the window, made sure the lock was in place. Turning back to the bed, she saw that it was neatly turned down, and her pillow was fluffed.  On the other night table, the wash basin was already filled; she tested the water and frowned. It was room temperature, but it would do right now.  Not exactly the lap of luxury, but it would do.

_That animal put his hands on her, had shoved one down her trousers, and run his thumb over her nipple._

In the privacy of the darkness, she allowed her revulsion to overtake her. She yanked the chamber pot over and vomited what little she had in her stomach away. As soon as there was nothing left, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood, trembling and bleary-eyed. She stripped the cursed shirt off with quiet determination along with the pants and tried to scrub away the memories of that vile touch. The lukewarm water did nothing for her – that would take an hour-long shower in almost boiling water.

_He’d almost touched her_ there _. If she hadn’t screamed like a stupid little girl, they wouldn’t have known, they wouldn’t have found her in time, and he would have._ The fight or flight response (called the acute stress response by the military) always gave a person what they needed to survive a situation if even for a short time. She’d learned all about it, she knew every symptom. She’d seen it in the eyes of fatally wounded soldiers. Since flight torture was impossible, the soldiers fought with all that they had to either survive or to die with dignity. She’d thought herself fortunate that she had never, nor would ever, have to deal with such trauma.

Her luck had run out.  The wound to her psyche wasn’t fatal, but it was scarring and dark.  She had spent every year since her father had died building and maintaining her sense of self, her self-confidence. Daily, she smoothed on her veneer of calm composure and had managed to face her days without being affected by what was part and parcel of being a soldier. 

Being a soldier meant dealing with trauma every day, whether it be in real life, on between the pages of reports, and medical records, and transfers.  Each terrible tale had struck hard against her invisible wall, but never penetrated. Now, Kimblee, with just a couple of well-placed touches, and with his psychosis full blown and frightening beyond belief, managed to press through. Now she had to come up with a way to fix the hole left behind.

She crawled between the spare sheets and pulled the pillow into her arms. One hand strayed to her lower abdomen, cradling it in gentle warmth. There was very little to feel, just a small curve, but she still ran her fingers over it, assuring herself – assuring _it_ – that everything was all right, and that everything would be okay. She smiled to herself realizing this was her first official act as a mother.

Sleep would be long in coming, this she knew, so she lay there and stared at the ceiling, allowing pictures from her memories to play before her eyes. She needed to go through this, this review of her memories. This internal debriefing, so that she could file it all away in their proper places and get on with her duties.  And her life.

Her mind danced over the earliest memories. _All of her earliest memories, the happiness she had felt before her mother passed away. Her childhood, gleefully torturing a skinny young boy with a thatch of unruly black and knobby knees, who hung on every word her father said. Her coming out party, escorted by the same kid, both of them feeling the resentment of have to be paired off in this way. Only because, he told her, dancing for him had been something that came with a stage and a pole and a guy with a cigar playing the piano._

Then, there was the day her father had called her into his study.

_It hurt._

_Truly, it did. There was no other way to describe it. No pretty words to camouflage it.  There was pain and then there was_ this _pain._

_Her father’s apprentice was off on some “errand” that her father had sent him on. The errand was probably as futile as arguing that what he wanted to do to her wasn’t right or necessary._

_Straddling a chair turned backward, her chin resting on folded arms, her father held her gaze with his callous grip of dark eyes. He told her what he was going to do, not as if she had permission to debate with him, but as a certainty. She shuddered but did as she was told. There was no use arguing with Berthold especially when the subject was his great work._

_If anyone had asked her back then, she would have said there was no rational excuse for acquiescing other than that he was her father. It was better to deal with this than whatever he had in store for her should she refuse. Now that she was an adult, she probably could understand that Berthold was a man who held control in his tight grip, and anything that tampered with it was punished severely._

_The sheer curtains at the window allowed a fresh breeze to sweep over her exposed back, soothing her wounded skin somewhat. On that chair in the middle of her father’s inner sanctum, she sat, still as a statue. Slowly and methodically, the needles nicked her skin and injected blood red ink just below the surface. It felt like the sky was falling on her back in tiny shards, depositing drop by drop of pain right under her skin, seeping into her bloodstream and marking her inside and out. The needles pressed deeply, but not too much, just enough. Just enough to mark her memories. It felt like hummingbirds were tearing at her skin._

_He was determined to finish this thing in one sitting because he knew that even she had limits, and there wouldn’t be any punishment that would make her submit to any more of this agony again._

_She wanted to ask then what it was for, all of the extra detail Berthold insisted on and the words in the archaic tongue. But, she knew that he thought his daughter beneath such arcane things. There were no off-handed explanations of alchemy from him. She wasn’t even allowed to step foot in his study to wander among the books, so she could at least absorb some of the monumental knowledge her father carried. No, she was just his test project, his grand experiment, and_ this _would be his_ magnum opus. _His masterpiece and his living legend._

_There were those who would have told her she was downright insane to allow him to mark her permanently.  Especially with such a dangerous thing as an entire alchemical array, fully loaded and terribly powerful._ _To madly become a walking, living breathing weapon, her very body into the hands of one of those dangerous creatures, madmen geniuses, those_ alchemists _even if he was her flesh and blood._

She skipped the conversation at her father’s grave, and what happened that memory coated with a pink and yellow miasma that she could never seem to remove. 

She marched through recollections of heat and sand, and dirt. She found the time when she scrabbled over the ruins of a city in search of someone. _She remembered the feel of the rifle in her hands as she stared down her target. The sweat in her armpits, on her brow, the back of her neck._

And finally, she found the memory. 

_She walked into the tent filled with officers and commanders and bloody-handed state alchemists and reported for duty, stiff and tired from two days of what could only be called stalking. It had been the brashest thing she had done in her short life, volunteering to be his adjutant the night before. And he did intimidate her, but she hadn’t been about to back down, despite the look of scorn he gave her. Her temerity had reflected in his eyes when he looked her up and down._

_She remembered the way he’d peeled the gloves from his hands like he was stripping another persona from his skin.  He distractedly handed them to her and moved to grab some water from the pitcher sitting on the table by the door._

_He wasn’t the same person remembered; that clumsy little boy was gone. He was different._

_Then she remembered the others in the room, and finally, she found the other_ him _violating her memories like he violated her skin. They called him_ Ruin. _Major Zolf Kimblee._

_He’d walked up to her while she stood there, walked around her as if she were on a block being sold. He had a look on his face that made her want to wash as he leaned forward, reaching out a hand._

_“Hawkeye,” he’d said her name as if it were his possession. “You have a smudge on your nose, little bird,” he’d said. His voice was slick and oily, and she almost shied away from it before she remembered that she hadn’t been told to stand at ease._

_And then her Major had stepped in front of the other one. “Did I give you permission to address my soldier, Kimblee?”_

_The two of them faced off, but it was not because of her. She could tell this was a battle that had been started between them far before she’d even stepped into the tent. She could sense the hatred and contempt in the air like the ozone that seeped from their pores at all times._

_Kimblee backed down then, under the watchful eye of the other older men in the room._

_And Major Mustang made her stand there at attention for a good ten more minutes, before barking an order that she find him a place to put up a tent for the night. Away from the others._

_And that was when it all began._

Riza sighed. She’d found what she sought. The recalling brought her back to a clean slate and allowed her conscious mind to remember everything that had passed between them since then. It allowed her to remember that he was there for her _now_ , in more ways than just the one, and would be for as long as he could be, or wanted to be.

Tonight, she’d needed this.

And tomorrow, she would need him.

She exhaled, releasing all tension in the air. She’d slept after worse nights. It was just a matter of letting the exhaustion in her body take over. She closed her eyes and willed her mind to shut down, to let her body take control and do what it had to do to help physically her recover.

 


	27. Sun Shines through the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wish...I wish I could just wipe away what he did to you. I wish I could erase the marks he left on your skin.” He lightly touched the bruises on her wrists, then looked her in her eye. “I wish I could help you forget. Right here, right now.”

 

]o[   ]o[   ]o[

 

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 25: Sun Shines through the Rain**

**Rating PG**

**Soundtrack: Eternal Flame – the Bangles**

 

They were admitted to Grumman’s office without having to wait. Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman waited in the antechamber while they went inside to deliver the report.

The Lieutenant General gave them a welcoming smile and accepted their salute for two seconds before he waved them to seats in front of the desk. “I get enough of that from these toadies around here. Tell me what you found out.”

Riza, of course, chose to stand behind the Colonel’s chair. Her grandfather looked at her for a moment, then shook his head, smiling.

The Colonel scowled. “Not much, unfortunately. I was...forced to injure the Crimson Alchemist when he attacked the group.”

“Attacked? Who did he attack?”

The Colonel looked at his hands for a moment. “He briefly took the First Lieutenant hostage.”

The Lieutenant General leaned forward. “Are you all right, First Lieutenant?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

She nodded, “I'm all right, sir. Only minor injuries.”

“Hmm,” he said.  He looked her up and down, evidently not believing her for an instant. “I’ll take your word for it for now.”

“Kimblee said that this was only the beginning of something larger,” the Colonel told Grumman. “That this was just something to shake us up and get our— _my_ attention.”

Hughes said, “I’m going to have some of my people return to Tin City, ask a few questions.”

The Lieutenant General sighed. “I suspect that is the best we can do. I still need to know why he needed those components.”

“I’ll get on it as soon I return to Central,” Hughes answered.

“The rest of you?” Grumman looked to the Colonel.

“We should be heading back to Eastern as soon as possible...” the Colonel stopped and gave the Lieutenant General a speculative look, which he returned with a keen eye. “First Lieutenant,” he suddenly said.

Riza snapped to attention.

He rose and moved to face her. “Due to your injuries, I’m ordering you to seek medical attention as soon as we leave this office.”

She nodded, expecting that. “Yes, sir.”

“After which, I’m ordering you to sick call here and after, take five days of convalescent leave, effective immediately.”

_That_ was wholly unexpected. “Forgive the insubordination, sir, but I would like to return to work as soon as possible.”

“You need time to recover.”

“Sir, the usual amount is three days,” she started.

“True. However, your current condition warrants the extra time.”

“Sir–,”

“That’s an _order_ , First Lieutenant,” the Colonel snapped. Her lover peered out from behind the calm, cool and collected military man and practically begged her not to argue with him.

Riza subsided, her stance rigid. He knew she wouldn’t argue with him in front of Grumman. His grim smile – directed only at her – told her so.

Grumman grunted approval. “That sounds like a good idea, Colonel. In fact, I’ll amend that order, have your leave taken here.”

Riza blinked, in shock. It was a conspiracy; she was certain.

“I haven’t spent time with my granddaughter in longer than I can remember,” Grumman continued, waving his hand. “If you’re being ordered to take time off, I’m taking advantage of it.” He picked up the phone before she could open her mouth to offer even a token protest. She listened while he called his adjutant to his office. “Thank you, Colonel, for the chance to take this time with her.”

“My pleasure, sir,” the Colonel said with a small smile that Riza wanted to wipe off of his face. With her boot.

The subordinate arrived. The Lieutenant General waved him over. “Take the First Lieutenant to the Eastern General, and then bring her to my quarters. Tell Vickers that she will be staying there for five days.” He clapped his hands together, satisfied. “Colonel, after you’ve freshened up, will you take a game of chess with me?”

“I’d be delighted, sir.”

Hughes stood. “I should be going.” He saluted both of them and followed Riza and the aide out of the office.

“I’m going to kill him,” she muttered.

“He’s only looking taking care of his responsibilities,” Hughes said in an even tone though she could see the smile scattered all over his face.

“ _Five_ days? That’s skating the line of favoritism.”

“Not really. Come on, it’s common knowledge that he would do the same for any of his men; that’s why his peers can’t stand him. In fact, some of the others in his rank accuse him of spoiling the hell out of all of you. But you are allowed extra time due to your condition, that’s straight from the books.”

“And I’m tired of hearing about my _condition_!”

“Well, get used to it. You have a _condition_ ,” Hughes said. “And even if it weren’t for your _condition_ , you would still be eligible for some time off after what happened to you.” His tone was exasperated. “Stop trying to act like you’re indestructible.” He stopped her and, making sure the aide was well in front of them, put his hands on her arms. “I know he would like to do more for you,” he whispered. “This is the most he _can_ do and not bring undue attention to himself. _Would you give the guy a break and let him?_ ”

Riza still scowled, but she knew he was right. She nodded.

That night, after having her shoulders checked and her arm placed in a sling, she found herself in a room she hadn’t been in since she was fifteen years old. Her old suite of rooms was as warm and inviting as she remembered it to be. It was a far cry from the mausoleum of the Hawkeye estate. She slipped on the pair of pajamas that were left for her and crawled into the big bed.

Five days. What was she going to do for five days? That was the longest she had been inactive. It would drive her mad.

She looked at the table by the bed and saw a book there. Curious, she picked it up and looked at the cover. And smiled. She remembered the book from before. She even had a copy of it in her home today. Cracking it, she started to read.

Roy would have laughed her out of existence if he caught her with her nose in one of these under-written, over-blown dime novels. Little did he know she had a box of them underneath her bed at home, dog-eared and read over a dozen times.

A knock on her door broke her concentration right as the dashing hero rescued the slightly scatter-brained heroine for the third time. As she finished the sentence, the door opened, and she heard a maid’s voice. “Ma’am, here’s a tray.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell Grandfather,” she called as she closed the book and put it on the table. “Tea tends to make me nauseous these days. I’m sorry, but could you bring...”

“Coffee? Black, with no sugar, right?”

She started at the change of voice and gave all of her attention to the doorway. Riza watched, her heart thumping, as Roy came toward her bed. He was in a spare uniform;  she could tell that the fit was not right in the shoulders and looked even more haggard than before.

She hadn’t meant to start off with an argument. He looked so worn and tired that it didn’t seem fair. But, she blurted the first thing in her mind. “I still think five days is excessive, Roy. I shouldn’t be treated any different from the others.  I should be in the office helping you with this matter.”

Roy scowled at her as he not-quite-slammed the tray down. “You should be thinking of something else besides work right now,” he snapped.

She flinched at the sharp tone but sat straight up, knowing that it came from the heart.  That did stop her from making herself ready to give back as good as she was getting. “It would suit you if I were to collapse completely like one of those helpless little ninnies in the secretarial pool would have, wouldn’t it?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “I’ve already had my dealings with those _helpless ninnies_ in the secretarial pool. And if I thought even for a moment you would behave in such a manner, I would set myself on fire for helping you get in this condition.”

Well, that deflated that argument before it could get going. Instead of what she’d wanted to say, she murmured, “There is no need for you to do this. It isn’t your fault that this–,”She watched the flush sweep over him and almost bit her tongue.

“Regardless of all of the other variables, _I_ am your commanding officer,” he bit out, “It is my responsibility to care for every life under my care.” He gave her a hard glare. “ _Every_ life, if you catch my meaning.”

He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to tell him how much of a cheap shot that was. “And if you won’t take certain things into consideration, I will.”

And again, he left her with no reply.  Usually, she was ready for anything that came out of his mouth. Evidently, that well was suddenly, and annoyingly dry. “What the hell am I supposed to do for five days, then?” she said helplessly.

“Try remembering that you are a human being like the rest of us,” he said, his voice was no less relentless for its softness. “You have been through a very real travail. Rest,” he said quietly. “Recover.” Then he gave her a hooded glance. “ _Try_ to forget.”

She looked away, hating everything he had to say at that moment. “That’s not as easy as it sounds.”

He pulled a chair next to the bed and sprawled in it. She wasn’t fooled by the natural posture. He wasn’t done with her yet.

“I know what I’m supposed to be doing here,” he started. “As your Commanding Officer, that is.”

So he was going to hide behind those stars on his shoulder? She was curious. “And that is?” she asked cautiously.

“According to my impeccable training, I’m supposed to give you the time off to recover from your immediate injuries. Which I have. Then, I’m supposed to give you access to all the medical care that you could need, for any future issues that may arise. Which I will.”

“Roy–,”

He held up his hand again. “And even though I couldn’t possibly empathize with what that animal put you through, I am supposed to sit here and listen while you give me a detailed report of what exactly happened to you.”

Riza winced. The debriefing. He was right.

“And I’m still working up the nerve to get on that. I suspect we will take care of that when you return to Eastern.”

Riza picked at a stray thread on the coverlet. She wasn’t sure if she could – or even should – tell him what Kimblee had done to her.

She watched him shift on the chair and found herself drinking in the every movement he made. The way he allowed his hair to fell into his face. The unconscious way he held his hands, right hand folded over left, ready for use at any time. The way his right foot moved in an unusual tap-tap-rest-tap-tap-rest rhythm. It suddenly occurred to that part of her that was just about to dive deep into that dime novel realized that they would be separated five days.

“But, as your lover....”

She gasped, her entire attention now on his lips and the words moving through them. That was the first time he’d called himself that. Since the beginning, they’d done an interesting dance around the name their relationship, avoiding the by not directly discussing it.

“As you lover, I just want to...to...”

“To what? Reclaim what’s yours?” Riza blinked. Now, where had that piece of nonsense come from? A reflex? A last burst of impotent anger?

Whatever it was, he reacted as if she’d struck him. “What’s _mine_?” Then his eyes lowered, and he reached out to take her hand. “None of this is mine,” he whispered, running his fingers over her hand. “You’re not a possession. No matter your place in this game, you are _not_ a possession.

“But, I wish...I wish I could just wipe away what he did to you. I wish I could erase the marks he left on your skin.” He lightly touched the bruises on her wrists, then looked her in her eye. “I wish I could help you forget. Right here, right now.”

Riza was almost speechless. “We’re ... We’re in my grandfather’s house. He doesn’t–,”

“He knows, Riza.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“He knows.” Roy released her and sat back in his chair again. “He’s the one who sent me up here.”

“He...knows...?”

Roy nodded. “The last thing he would want to do is hurt you by exposing this.” He gave her a sad little excuse for a smile. “We seem to be the lucky two, to know so many people who sympathize with our situation.”

“How do you know that he knows?” Riza asked.

“ _He told me_.” This time he actually laughed. “He has the horrible habit of leaving me flat-footed like I’d been hit in the head with an iron skillet. Not only does he understand what we are going through, he also knows about quite a few people in our situation.”

She’d heard the same thing from Maes and Doctor Winters. “He does?”

“And, believe me when I tell you that he doesn’t believe in the regulation about this type of fraternization. Thinks it’s antiquated and needs to be reformed.”

“Well, it is and it does.”

Roy smiled at that statement. “Even though it’s written in the stone foundations of this man’s army?”

Riza snorted. “Just because I’m one of the dogs of the military, doesn’t mean I agree with every little regulation ever put on the books. In particular, I’ve always failed to understand how the high brass expects those of us who give our entire lives to the military to find someone to share it among those who on the outside.”

“Tell me what he did to you.”

The request came in a deep voice, raw and unpolished by his usual charm. It dropped into the middle of the conversation like a bombshell, completely out of context, and cut through all attempts to avoid it. Those six words exploded along her skin, leaving her nerves raw in some places.

She couldn’t resist the plea, as much as she wanted to protect him from the truth. Even if that truth wasn’t what he thought it was.

“He—it wasn’t as much as it looked, Roy,” she began.

“Maes said he saw you. He saw—that bastard had his hands on you. That’s why he struck.”

“For which I will eternally be grateful. But, he only touched.” Riza shivered. “He only touched me. He didn’t do anything more.” Her mouth twisted. “I believe Hughes fixed that quite efficiently.”

“Riza. Look at me.”

She dragged her gaze up to his. “Are you sure you’re not just telling me that?”

“Roy.” She squeezed his hand and gave up. “I wouldn’t lie about this. He did not rape me if that is what you think." _Though in the grand scheme of things, it might as well have been as bad._

“But you were still violated,” he echoed her thoughts. “There is that fine line between assault and battery and he danced all over it. I hope he dies from his injuries.”

She heard the wealth of contempt in his voice, not only for Kimblee, but for himself as well. She whispered. “I hope he does too.”

“I almost killed him.” She heard him mutter. “ _Mostly alive_ , was the requirement.” A rough chuckle, like sandpaper across the air. “That’s exactly what he is. You don’t mind that I might have had even more blood on my hands?”

She tugged his arm, again making him look up. “There will be much more blood on your hands before this is over,” she told him. “I’m fully aware of that fact. You should be too. You’d better get used to it if you want to change things in the radical way you want to.”

“I know. This isn’t going to be a polite dance to the top of the ranks. No one is going to hand me what I want on a silver platter.  I’m going to have to take it.” His eyes lifted slowly until they caught sight of the book lying next to her on the coverlet. A sparkle of curiosity touched his gaze. “What is that?”

She started. He was taking the conversation over so much terrain that she was about to get dizzy. She looked down at the coverlet and remembered the novel laying there. Mortified, she tried to cover it, but he slipped it from under her hand nonetheless. She closed her eyes as held it up and read the cover, waiting for it.

It came as a soft chuckle. “ _He wrapped her in his iron-grip, shielding her from the dangers without and within_ ,” he read, his smile growing. “ _She could feel his strong, surging heartbeat within his broad chest–_ ”

“All right, that’s enough.” She attempted to snatch the book from him and hissed when she pulled at her shoulder.

He held it out of reach. “You sure the bump on your head didn’t affect you?” He read some more. “His turgid manhood?” He blinked over the top of the book at her. “What the hell is a turgid manhood?”

“Do shut up.”

He laughed until she thought he would have a seizure, and then shook his head and put the book back on the table. “I suppose that’s the best way to forget as any,” he said, giving her a small grin. “I’m pretty sure I can do better than this guy, though.”

“Well, I won’t know about that until after my leave is over, will I?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She blushed. “Well, I won’t.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her temple. “I will miss you too, dear,” he whispered. She could still hear the tension underneath the endearments. “Do you realize that this is the first time we’ve been separated in...?”

“Since Ishbal,” Riza finished. She hoped she didn’t sound as suddenly breathless as she felt. That touch had been triggered a chain-reaction she wasn’t prepared for.

He stroked her arm. “I never thought I’d feel the lack so harshly,” he murmured.

“Neither did I...Roy, I–,” He kissed her. Tentatively at first, to be sure she wouldn’t bolt, and she did stiffen for a long few seconds.  _This is Roy, not the other,_ she told herself sternly and lowered her defenses slightly. He deepened the kiss, leaning into her, letting her absorb the warmth of his body into her skin. _Today, she needed this._

When he raised his head, his face slightly flushed and looked at her carefully. “Was that... all right?”

Riza smiled. “More than all right.”

“Tell me where he hurt you, Riza,” Roy said in a low voice. “Tell me. Let me wipe it away.”

_That was too much._ She shook her head. “I can’t. Not yet.” But she wasn’t quick enough, and she gasped, as his lips touched her shoulder, the one Kimblee had dislocated, and his hand brushed against her. She shied away from it, and he stopped, pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “That was stupid. Of course, you’re not ready for–,”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Riza answered. “Just...” She pulled and tugged on him until he was sitting on the side of her bed, leaning over her. “I want. Hell, Roy, just hold me.”

She didn’t need to say anything else. He stretched out on the bed next to her, slid an arm under her and pulled her close. It was just intimate enough to comfort, yet not enough to make her nervous. She took his other hand and wrapped it around her, placing his palm on her stomach.

As lazy as he could be on most days, he wasn’t one to shirk his duty when it meant something to him. So he wrapped himself around her, tucking her head under his chin. That was a feat within itself, considering there was only two inches difference in height. She didn’t question it though; just feeling him around her was enough.

They lay there in silence for quite some time, until he stirred, half-drowsy. “Riza?”

She stretched her legs, rubbing them against him. “Hmmm?”

“You never did answer my question.”

“What question is that?”

“What the hell is a turgid manhood?”

 


	28. Got a Big Mouth but Don’t Say a Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her name began with a C or S something of the sort. He really didn’t remember. He did remember that she had the longest legs he’d ever seen on a woman and the almost perfect set of... the reaction in the room when she walked in said everything we couldn’t. Apparently some smart ass knew his history with the secretarial pool and sent him someone sure to turn his engine over.
> 
> “Stunning,” was Havoc’s singular comment when she walked into the room.

]o[   ]o[   ]o[

 

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 26: Got a Big Mouth but Don’t Say a Thing**

**Rating PG**

**Soundtrack: Bang Bang – Jessie J, A. Grande, N. Minaj**

                                                                              

 

Roy would certainly be glad when Riza returned from her leave. Because he was sure that everyone around him had gone crazy. And, with her absence, he was sure to join them down that pitted road to insanity.

It all started with the woman they sent him from the secretarial pool that morning.

Her name began with a _C_ or _S_ something of the sort. He really didn’t remember. He did remember that she had the longest legs he’d ever seen on a woman and the almost perfect set of... the reaction in the room when she walked in said everything we couldn’t. Apparently some smart ass knew his history with the secretarial pool and sent him someone sure to turn his engine over.

“Stunning,” was Havoc’s singular comment when she walked into the room.

That she was. A remarkably red-headed woman, again with legs – that went on forever and a face...

That looked nothing like the woman Roy was truly missing like crazy, who was enjoying the company of her grandfather for the next three days, ten hours and forty-seven minutes. And seventeen seconds.

He managed to greet the girl with some propriety and directed her to her duties for the day without incident. After that, he hadn’t given her a second thought. He wasn’t blind and he wasn’t dead, but he really didn’t have time to deal with the blowback. In front of him was an unrelenting run-on sentence that Edward Elric was calling a field report.

“Do you think that, next time, you could find it in your heart to use at least a comma?  A semi-colon?” he asked plaintively as his prodigal Major (by the skin of his teeth) sprawled over his couch. Al was absent; doing something unbelievably domestic, Edward had told him.

“What? I’m told to report, so I report,” Ed told him, not giving an inch. He’d returned from his hometown in the worst mood Roy had seen. “Nobody gave me any formatting rules or regulations. All the main points are there.”

“Yeah, everything is here except a comma. Or a damned em dash. How about a capital letter to let me know when a sentence begins? You should borrow a secretary to type up your report next time,” Roy muttered. “Ah-ha! A period. I found a _period_ in here!”

Ed rolled his eyes and squirmed further into the soft leather of the couch. Roy was sure he heard the word “Bastard,” seep past his teeth into the air.

“Sir?” came the voice of the secretary. “Would you like me to transcribe the report for you? Make it easier for you to read?”

The other men in the room – except the Fullmetal Alchemist, froze and listened to her voice swirl around them like hot caramel. Edward was examining his dirty fingernails and picked at the large screw in the back of his right hand.

Roy waved a hand in her general direction, ignoring his officers’ hijinks. “No, no. It’s all right...I think I can actually make out what he’s trying to say here.”

Havoc moved up to the desk, and as Roy looked up, he caught that particularly interesting look in his eye. It wasn’t quite the usual poleaxed look he got whenever a beautiful woman crossed his path, but Roy couldn’t quite identify it. “Mustang, are you feeling all right?” the younger man asked as he flipped a cigarette into his mouth.

Roy arched an eyebrow. “Yes, why?”

Havoc leaned across the desk, the unlit smoke stick wiggling with each word. “Have you _seen_ Celia?”

“Who?” Roy frowned.

Havoc jabbed a thumb in the general direction of the Secretary. “Celia. She’s. Absolutely. Amazing.”

Roy looked again. Really, if truth be told, he couldn’t help but look. She was sex appeal packaged in a tight miniskirt. He tilted his head to think about it. Perhaps if he didn’t respond appropriately to the girl’s obvious charms, someone might wonder if he hadn’t gone completely spare. “She _is_ remarkable,” he said in his best purring voice. He would have sworn he actually saw her ears wiggle.

Ed made a noise. The other two turned to look at the scowling countenance. “What? You don’t agree, Fullmetal?” Roy said, smirking.

Ed gave them both a look to melt steel. “I’ve got better things to do than sit here and stare at some random secretary all day,” he said. “And so do you.” He reached out and tapped the corner of Roy’s desk. “The report?”

Roy shook his head and bent back to the paper in front of him. Dear Powers, the spelling! He could probably forgive the fact that the poor guy had to write things with his less dominant hand, but this spelling was beyond atrocious. He sure as hell didn’t want to have to read any of his journals; he would be driven mad just trying to find a legible word.

“You mean to tell me that set of legs doesn’t make you want to stare all day?” Roy heard Havoc comment to Ed, this time with strange, twisted grin. Indeed, that expression did not fit on his easy going Second Lieutenant’s face at all. He suddenly recalled something very curious that he’d put out of his mind when the Crimson Alchemist started messing with his reputation. Now, it danced in front of him, teasing the edges of his mind. He kept his head bent but looked up to follow the exchange.

Ed threw Havoc a dark look. “Not interested in _that_ set of legs,” he muttered.

Roy detected the growling undertone in the boy’s voice that didn’t quite sound right and flicked a glance between the two. Even Breda was stretching his ear as far as he could without actually turning his head.  Falman and Fuery were, as usual, oblivious to everything except the forms in front of them.

The two were glaring at one another, like a couple of dogs fighting over the same tree. Such blatant hostility from Fullmetal was usually dedicated to Roy alone, but now it seemed that he’d picked another victim toward which to vent his spleen.

“She's splendid,” Havoc said, pivoting and leaning forward. “And did you hear her voice?  Like a symphony.”

Celia giggled, overhearing the compliment.

“Glad _you_ think so,” Ed spat.

“Don’t you think she’s stunning, Boss?”

Ed said through clenched teeth. “Not particularly.”

“You haven’t even taken a good look.”

Roy began looking from one to the other, feeling like he’d just come in during the middle of a radio drama. The color was growing high on Edward’s cheeks, and Havoc looked utterly, relentlessly gleeful.

“I _said_ I’ve got better things to do!”

Havoc crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against Roy’s desk. “You sure are in a foul mood, Boss.”

“My mood bothering you?” Edward stood, taking one step toward the other blond.

“It might be.” Havoc bent down, bringing his eyes on a level with Ed’s. Roy hoped he didn’t get a crick in his neck for his efforts.

“Too. Bad.”

Now, they were practically nose to nose, giving up on the tree and heading straight for the juicy bone. Roy was utterly perplexed; what the hell was wrong with them?

“Really, Boss?” Havoc asked.

“Really,” Fullmetal answered.

“You know, maybe you should take a good look,” Havoc growled, “Might help you get that stick out of your--,”

Roy cleared his throat, wondering what would happen if he broke their train of thought.

It was then they remembered their audience. Looking slowly around the room, Ed and Havoc gave each other one last, wary look and withdrew to the opposite corners of their imaginary ring. Roy actually thought he heard a bell ringing the end of the round. Apparently, they’d reach an accord on one thing:

That this _cockfight_ could _not_ take place right under the nose of their Colonel. Especially when their Colonel was bored and looking for a reason to be entertained.

“Would either of you care to tell me what that antler-slamming was all about?” Roy asked, thoroughly amused. He’d never seen Havoc act quite that way before, especially toward Fullmetal. Usually, he was pleasant and friendly, and only interacted the young Alchemist when he had to. And, although he had seen Edward in full seethe, he hadn’t seen it done with quite so much...maturity. His voice was even pitched deeper if that was possible. Roy did a quick mental calculation and decided that sixteen was going to be an _exciting_ age for Edward Elric and that he for one was going to be paying very close attention.

“I’m just tired, Colonel,” Ed offered after a moment of two of silence. “Been sitting on a train all day, and I do have more research to on this before I can go to bed.”

Roy turned slowly back to the young man, tucking the surly look on Havoc’s face away for future reference. “About that. It says here that Scar alluded to information on the Philosopher’s Stone. Are you sure he’s not just yanking your leash?”

“I don’t doubt my sources if that’s what you’re asking. I gave him no reason to mention it. I intend to go down there and ask a few questions of my own.”

“That could be dangerous, Fullmetal,” Roy said. “Perhaps I should send an escort with you again--,”

“No, thanks,” the young man protested quickly. “Despite popular opinion these days, I’m _not_ a baby; I can handle myself.”

Havoc snorted and moved back to the communal table.

Roy was determined to find out why these two were at odds by the end of the day. “Fine,” he said slowly, “Just, let me know the next time you decide to wander off. People do expect me to know where all of my subordinates are these days.”

“Well, I’m wandering off to the library now. That okay with you?”

Roy sighed. He really wasn’t in the mood for the Elric type of surliness. “Knock yourself out.”

Ed, stood, straightened his overcoat and stalked out, ignoring everyone else in the room.

As the door banged shut, Roy looked over at Havoc, who was nose deep in a file. “Don’t think I’m not going to ask what _that_ was all about.”

Jean kept reading for a minute, then looked up as if he’d just heard. “Sir?” he asked with all of the fake innocence of a two-year-old with his hand in a jar of cookies.

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose and shoved the report to the other side of his desk. The secretary immediately made her way over to him and scooped it up. He looked up just in time to see her flashing a bright smile and sauntering back to her own desk. He briefly watched the sway of her hips beneath the tiny skirt and noticed that she didn’t quite have the right stride, that purposeful walk that usually attracted him.

“Three days,” he muttered.

“Sir?” It was Fuery. The others were lined up with him. “We’re going to the mess. That okay?”

Roy looked over at the clock and waved them out without comment.

The room was quiet then, except for the girl, who kept on giving him the most annoyingly sly glances he’d ever encountered. Had he actually been attracted to such nonsense mere months ago? He smiled once, just to keep her happily chirping to herself, then went back to work. Three days from now and all would return to normal, he promised his cramping fingers as he signed and signed and signed.

The phone rang, the most beautiful sound his ears had ever heard.

“I hope you aren’t shirking your duties just because I’m not there, sir.”

He smiled and leaned back in his chair. He flung a pencil upward. It stuck into the ceiling effortlessly. “Of course not, Lieutenant.  Did you know that the ceiling has two hundred and–,”

“Forty-two tiles. Yes, I know.” He loved the smile in her voice. “And you’re getting that pencil down yourself this time. How are things over there? Certainly less boring than here, to be sure.”

“I _wish_ it were boring. I’ve had to survive a report from Edward, and _then_ I had to keep Edward from almost tearing into Havoc’s throat.”

“What? Havoc? Why?”

“Or was it Havoc from Edward’s throat? They were...fighting. Yes, that’s what most people would call it.  I’d call it acting like they belonged in a menagerie.”

There was silence on the other side and then a soft sigh. “Colonel. I leave for one day and the place falls apart around your ears.”

“Hey! I am perfectly capable of–,”

She laughed again. It was refreshing, to hear the voice of the Riza he knew outside of work while hip deep in the military bureaucracy. It also made him wish she were here...where he could watch her admonish him in person. Perhaps with the usual checking of the chamber of her gun. Visions of inappropriate office behavior danced before his eyes, leaving him in a misty glaze.

“So, Colonel, what’s her name?”

He blinked back to consciousness. “What? Who’s name?”

“The secretary. What’s her name?”

He thought about the fact that she knew there was a secretary there. “You had her sent over, didn’t you?”

“Of course. I don’t want to have to clean up your mess after such a lovely five days off. What’s her name?”

“Something that begins with a ... C ... I think.”

Again that thoughtful silence, and again that rich, contralto chuckle. “Is our line clear?” she asked quietly.

He’d been listening, and had heard the telltale click that let him know that the monitors had gone off to something more interesting than an adjutant admonishing her lazy superior. “By now, yes.”

“I miss you,” she said, and before he could respond to that, she hung up.

He stared at the phone for what seemed like forever, “Affirmative, Lieutenant. That is a mutual opinion.”  He hung up, wondering what he could do about the suddenly tight feeling he had around the lower half of his body. Maybe if he stretched his legs a bit, all would be right with the world.

He told the secretary to take his messages and left, turning toward the library. Perhaps, by the time he made it there, he would have walked off the effects of Riza-deprivation.


	29. A Ride in the Engine that Could Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy stumbled to a halt, only a few feet from where he knew Ed was. It was only after catching a few passages here and there that he realized what he heard...his brain ground to a slow and steady halt.

 

]o[   ]o[   ]o[

 

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 27: A Ride in the Engine that Could Go**

**Rating PG**

**Soundtrack: Bang Bang – Jessie J, A. Grande, N. Minaj**

It wasn’t until he was half-way to the library that he remembered that there really was something he needed to go over for his re-assessment. He knew he wasn’t going to get another chance to display his talents in the manner he had last time. This time it would be an examination and a re-evaluation of his research. He would have to expand on his knowledge of flame alchemy to include new findings. Perhaps Kimblee had been useful after all; he could research how the man was able to imitate – if not entirely – flame alchemy in a damn near perfect manner.

As he entered the library, he took in the smell of old books and ink with a small smile. All who knew him believed him to be addicted to the scent of women’s cologne and the taste of a good whiskey. But, the calm peace of the library gave him a sense of comfort that few people knew he could summon. One of them was currently in Northern Headquarters and one ran a bordello.

He raised his head, smiling as he heard the familiar mutterings of the Fullmetal Alchemist, somewhere deep amid the bookshelves. Ed talked while he read, working theories out in his head, arguing with himself and the elusive author about things he did not understand or agree with. If someone not familiar with the workings of alchemical research were to stumble upon the boy all unknowing, they would have thought him crazy.  And they probably would have been right.

But... Roy tuned his ear in again. The muttering he heard _did_ belong to Edward, but it didn’t _quite_ sound like the babblings associated with study and research. And the curious rustling sound did not seem like the ink scratching that came with the usual note-taking.

And that _other_ voice – Roy stumbled to a halt, only a few feet from where he knew Ed was. It was only after catching a few passages here and there that he realized what he heard...his brain ground to a slow and steady halt.

_“...Too young for you?”_ that was definitely Ed’s voice; that stubborn growl was unmistakable.

There was a murmur. The name belonging to the elusive voice was on the tip of Roy’s tongue, but he just couldn’t place it. It was definitely male, but the range was just under that which he could make out all of the words, which made eavesdropping more imperative.

_“I do,”_ Edward was answering.

More murmuring.

_“Bullshit.”_ Edward certainly knew nothing about keeping his own voice down. Exciting for Roy, but frustrating when he couldn’t properly hear the other person. He stepped between two shelves, placing him only one level of books away from the conversation. He reached in and pulled out a book, so he wouldn’t actually look as if he were eavesdropping. _Fifty-five Ways to Find the Square Root of X, by Philip Weis._ Roy remembered this book from his first assessment and could feel the yawn building in the back of his throat.

_“Because I say I can handle it!”_

The argument had moved to the hissing stage, words flying too fast and furious for Roy to follow. It wasn’t for want of trying, though. He could practically feel his ear getting bigger as he attempted to stretch it around the bookcase without being discovered.

Then, suddenly, he heard the second voice, bright as a summer day. _“Were you jealous, Boss?”_

He struggled to keep the book from falling to the floor and giving away his position.  _Jean? Havoc? Jean Havoc? Havoc, Jean, Second Lieutenant in this man’s army?”_

Ed gasped softly. Roy strained to hear, but all he could make out in Fullmetal’s voice was _“…gent? H-hell no.”_

_“My ass. How about Celia,”_ he heard Havoc say softly, almost in a whisper. The rest dipped again into unintelligible.

_"No. Apparently, you-you were after the dark-haired type."_

Roy wanted to climb through the hole made by his book on the shelf.

_"Like I said, Ed…."_ More soft words. Damn them!

Then, he suddenly heard, no doubt: _“You cross-eyed, backward facing, ashtray sucking son of a bitch. Fuck you.”_

_Creative_ , Roy thought.

_"If you insist."_

The shelf he was standing nearest suddenly rattled and Roy backed against the shelf behind him, mouth agape. How mortifying would it have been to be crushed by a bookshelf in the midst of eavesdropping on an apparently private and unbelievably scandalous conversation?

Then again, what he was hearing didn’t sound much like regular conversation anymore.

He heard the telltale slap of a book hitting the floor, and then he knew exactly what that following sounds were. He’d been accused of making such sounds on many occasions... perhaps in this same place... with many a silly little ninny from the secretarial pool.

His brain drained right out his right ear and pooled on the floor as the noise continued. Especially when he caught that throaty, growling moan that was _not_ the voice of a particular Second Lieutenant. Nor was it the voice of an innocent sixteen-year-old boy. Not anymore. He was tempted to pull up a chair and start taking notes.

Then, just when it was getting good, pure silence. 

Roy froze, trying hard not to breathe.

_“That_ bastard _,”_ he heard Ed say breathlessly, _“I can smell that cheap, stale cologne all the way from here.”_

Roy stared, open-mouthed at the bookshelf. _Stale? Cheap? How dare he?_ At least he knew the proper use of men’s hygiene products! Then: _wait. What?_

Then he heard scuffling fading into the opposite direction and knew that the library theater show was over.

He took a moment or two to catch his breath and think about what he’d heard. He was transported back to the time when he was barely old enough to have a reputation. It was a wonderful time, a time when he discovered that his best friend actually had an active libido hiding behind those wire frames and hot green eyes.  Then he discovered that his best friend was quite willing to share his intense desire with a particular young alchemist. Roy was probably not much older than Edward was now. His mouth twisted into a wicked grin.  Yes, Roy had been _very_ into the study, research and experimentation of such things back in those young days.

It seemed like his new prodigy was very much into the same things. _Well damn._

How he managed to find his way out of the library was beyond him. How he kept a straight face throughout the rest of the day was nothing short of miraculous. He kept himself quiet when Edward huffed back into the office and gave a half-assed impression of his usual self until Roy released him back into the world. He even held his tongue when he saw the dazed look in his eye.

Maybe he could sneak out of the office early today. Because he knew Riza would be asleep way before 2200 hours and he had to call her before then.

Maybe _this_ would get her to come back early. _Oh, my Queen, wait until you find out what our Knight has been doing on the field of battle._

He grinned and began singing softly to himself; “Jacqueline and Evelyn, sitting in a tree…”

]o[

It was days later that the office saw the Fullmetal Alchemist again. Riza was happily back and at her desk when the doors opened in the typical Elric fashion and the two brothers barged into the room.

She could feel her ears growing pink as she remembered what Roy had told her when she returned, and she split her gaze between the older Elric and her colleague. One would never know that they were anything more than fellow soldiers assigned to the same commanding officer.  Well, maybe not. As Edward passed her on the way to Roy’s desk, she saw a small, purpling bruise on one side of his neck that anyone with a set of eyes could identify. She cleared her throat and moved toward Roy’s desk with the folders clutched in her hand.

The Colonel looked up from the papers and gave Ed a slow, bland stare.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Fullmetal?” Roy murmured, placing the folder in his hand calmly on the table and folding his hands on top of it.

“New mission, Colonel,” Ed said with no preamble. “I think we need to talk about it in there.”  He jerked his head toward the door leading to Mustang’s private office.

Riza watched Roy exchanging a quick glance with Havoc. The Second Lieutenant kept his expression blank when Ed turned.  Then Roy divided a look between Ed and Jean, then looked at her.  She saw the minute merriment in his eyes and returned it, hoping Edward didn’t detect it. She would hate to have to take Fullmetal into custody for rearranging the Colonel’s teeth.

“I hate going in there,” Mustang sighed, even as he pushed back from the desk.  “Every time I go in there it means even more work.  Well, come on, Fullmetal, let’s discuss this new mission you just have to go on.”  Roy held up a hand and gestured for both Hawkeye and Jean to accompany them.

“Wait,” Ed stopped. “Why do _they_ have to come?”

Mustang turned and gave Ed a look. “I don’t discuss any new missions without their good counsel. That’s why they hold the rank that they do.”

Riza held tight to her amusement as Ed grumbled and muttered and threw himself down on the couch next to the desk in the private office. Alphonse stood behind the sofa next to his brother, Jean sat next to her on the other house and they both waited.

The Colonel listened quietly as Ed talked about strange new arrays and the serial killer and the internment camp. Riza listened and watched covertly as Jean stared at the ceiling during that whole thing as if he had indeed heard all of this before and still wasn’t convinced of the necessity.

Apparently, according to the deductive reasoning of the young alchemists, the pattern that had been tattooed on the serial killer’s arm was an obscure array that combined the properties of several types of matrices. It could possibly − perhaps − be something linked to the Philosopher’s Stone in some kind of way. Whether in its creation or use was the main question.  And, of course, Edward wanted to find Scar and get the answers directly from him.

The Colonel sat quietly and allowed Ed to run entirely out of steam talking and arguing his point. Riza doubted that Ed even noticed the strange occurrence.  Not once did the Colonel interrupt him with a smart remark, or an sly question or even a change of expression. Alphonse did notice, though, to judge from the way his glowing gaze moved between the Colonel and Havoc. Havoc only leaned back on the couch and flipped a cigarette into his mouth, waiting. Riza had crossed her arms over her chest and waited as well. Something was brewing, and she had a feeling that Edward was not going to like it.

When Ed was finished and had leaned back himself, arms crossed in almost the same manner as everyone else, the Colonel looked down at the top of his desk for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. Then he looked up − giving Riza a quick look that both Elrics missed − then spoke. “Your theories have merit, Fullmetal, from an alchemy perspective. If this killer knows anything about the Philosopher’s Stone – and probably he does, or he wouldn’t have inscribed such a mark on his own person − we need to secure him immediately.”

“It’s dangerous, Colonel,” Riza said suddenly, flatly.

“More dangerous than a terrorist train attack?” Ed challenged.

Riza’s gave Ed her attention. “This man kills alchemists. Quite easily, from what I understand.  That makes him very dangerous.”

“She is right,” the Colonel said. “As well, there is always danger when dealing with such dynamic concepts as the much-fabled Philosopher’s Stone.”  He threw a look in Havoc’s direction. “Advise me, Second Lieutenant,” he said quietly. “You were at the internment camp. You did reconnaissance there. Do the dangers outweigh the value of the information that Fullmetal can obtain about this thing?”

Riza split her gaze between Edward and Jean. Jean was ignoring the look of warning Ed was giving him and leaned forward. “Colonel, that whole camp is full of people who would just as likely see any of us dead,” he said. “I didn’t see many outsiders. And prowling around at night?”  Jean shook his head.  “Not a good idea.  Even the children are ready to kill.”

“You’ve said yourself, Colonel, that the Philosopher’s Stone is a fairy tale,” Riza reminded him. “Is it worth the risk for Edward and Alphonse to venture into such dangerous territory for something whose authenticity is in question?”

Roy was still looking at Jean while Riza talked, his gaze burrowing so deep under that slick veneer that she was sure Jean would have eyeball burns in the middle of his forehead. _He_ knew exactly why Jean was advising against this mission, and if she could read her Colonel right, he agreed.

Roy suddenly turned his attention to the younger brother. “Alphonse,” he said, “what do _you_ think about going on this mission without reinforcements? Because…” and he turned back to Edward, “that is what you’re saying, right? You want to go to this internment camp − where you’ve already been injured once − without _any_ reinforcement.”

Ed shrugged with all the bravado of his sixteen years. “I work better when it’s just me and Alphonse,” he countered. “How many of these missions have you sent us on where we didn’t have your so-called reinforcements? This is nothing new; it’s a simple fact-finding mission.”

The Colonel nodded slowly. “You’re correct, of course. However, those were different. Those were scouting missions, so to speak. You weren’t dealing with a known serial killer who already has you in his target sights. I ask again, what do you think, Alphonse?”

Alphonse stood straight up and looked at everyone in the room. Then he bowed his head.  “Um… well, we _have_ gone on missions like this before, all alone and without help. Liore, for example. That was dangerous. It’s probably wiser for us to go alone, because of the way these people feel about the military.”

Ed smiled and nodded, looking very pleased with himself.

“However….”

And the smile left Ed’s face as quick as that.

“This Scar person is pretty determined to rid the world of alchemists. We don’t know why. He might actually have a reason, or he just might be completely insane.”  Al turned to his brother. “And he has sworn to kill you the next time you cross his path. If he’s crazy, that makes him unpredictable. I certainly don’t want to deal with a crazy half-alchemist who kills alchemists alone, without someone backing us up.” Al shook his head. “I don’t know if what he knows is worth the risk.”

Ed growled something unintelligible to himself. Riza watched an unspoken conversation fly between the brothers for a few moments, then he watched Al withdraw from the field of battle with a resigned sigh. The younger Elric finally turned to the Colonel and said reluctantly, “We have fought this Scar before. And… I’m confident that Brother and I can handle him.”

Jean looked floored by the sudden flip-flop. Riza suspected that he would have bet his entire monthly stipend that Al would have argued on the side of caution.

The Colonel, however, just nodded and looked at the two of them.

“I understand your arguments, of course, Hawkeye, Havoc,” he began. “I also understand what Alphonse and Edward are saying. Despite the fact that most people believe it to be a fairy tale, the search for this stone is one of the primary goals of State Alchemists when they are not being utilized in combat situations.”

Riza watched as Jean leaned back against the couch, took a drag from his cigarette and watched the smoke from his exhalation. She saw the muscles in his jaw work; she saw the anger glinting in his half-mast eyes.

“As well, you and I have an agreement, Fullmetal, that I would allow you to seek out a solution to your… difficulties whenever you can. “That being said, this is technically not just part of the agreement you and I have.” 

Ed’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I promised to give you free rein on your personal search for the Philosopher’s Stone.  In any other circumstance, I would do that. But this is the military’s concern as well because this man threatens _all_ State Alchemists.” He leaned back and tapped his fingers on the top of the desk. “You _will_ go with, but with reinforcements of my choosing. I’ll decide who that will be by tomorrow. Until then, you stay put.”

Ed’s jaw worked, he opened his mouth a couple times like he wanted to argue.

“Got me, Fullmetal?” Roy added, his expression hard and unyielding.

Ed grunted something that sounded like an affirmative, then stood and stalked from the room, muttering to himself. Riza briefly heard the word _bastard_ as Ed moved through the room and wondered if that was directed at Jean or at the Colonel.

Al stood and looked around. “Thanks, Colonel,” he said weakly and followed his brother from the room. “I’ll do my best to make sure he stays here until tomorrow.”

“I know you will, Alphonse,” the Colonel said, nodding at the young man.

When the door closed, Riza looked over at Roy. “You actually think that they’re going to stay put until you can decide which watchdog to put on them?”

Roy shook his head. “No. But,” and he held up his hand when Jean started to speak.  “They have no idea what kind of watchdog I intend to send after them. It certainly won’t be the one they expect.”

“Sir−.”

“Jean, don’t worry. I got this one.”  He smiled, then.  “It’s worth it just to be able to watch the two of you squirm around this.”

Jean flushed and fell back against the couch again.

“Hmm,” Riza commented. “Like cats and dogs, aren’t they?”

“Why me?” Jean grumbled.

“I don’t think cats and dog have so much fun. So tell me, Second Lieutenant…” Roy was asking as he unwound a paperclip. “When is the wedding?”

Riza choked.

Jean grimaced. Then it looked as if he had a sudden burst of inspiration and smiled cockily. “Same day as yours, sir. It’ll be worth it to watch you scratch your way through those dress blues for an entire day.”

Mustang threw the paperclip at him.

 


	30. Something's Gonna Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was someone who wanted to challenge Roy; someone trying to keep him from reaching his goal. Which meant someone had to know about his goal; at least enough to want him to stumble on his way to the top, if not outright fail.
> 
> Rating M for sexual situations

 

]o[   ]o[   ]o[

 

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 28: Something’s Gonna Give**

**Rating M**

**Soundtrack: Push – Matchbox 20**

Riza looked at the uniform spread on her bed and briefly thought her life was over. She had passed the magical threshold while she wasn’t paying attention and had to officially requisition the cursed uniform designed for women who had the misfortune to be pregnant in the military. The powers that be told her that what she requested was on back order and sent her what they had, with was a sad collection of maternity wear for several phases.

She was consoled by reminding herself that the jacket was only the first in a line of maternity clothing; her lip turned up at the thought of the tent that they called a full-on regulation maternity jacket. Roy laughed when he saw it. And that was why he would be walking with a limp for the next three days.

After the high cut, close fitting shorts she was determined to wear for modesty’s sake, she slipped on the skirt – the _skirt_ – and adjusted the stretchy panel. This piece of clothing alone told her what the military thought of a soldier who had the _misfortune_ to get pregnant while on active duty.be in her second trimester in the military. It was very similar in design to the non-combatant uniform and just as uncomfortable.

She remembered someone offering her that suit right after she was assigned to Roy’s command. She remembered telling the Quartermaster what he could do with that skirt.

She buttoned up her shirt (no more turtlenecks for her), then on went the jacket. Only those who knew her well would be able to tell that she was hanging on to standard operating procedure by a thread. Her rebellion against the whole get up was the pistol strapped to her thigh. It kept at least one weapon in hands reach.

When she looked in the mirror, she wanted to blast a hole directly through the glass. She looked like she just rolled out of bed. Nothing tucked, nothing flat and smooth – how many more months of this did she have to endure?

“You’re thinking out loud again.”

She jumped three feet, then turned and glared at Roy. “ _When_ are you going home?” she grumbled, only half joking.

“You were the one begging me to stay last night,” Roy said in a smarmy voice.

“Remind me to get my head examined at my next visit.”

“Consider it an order, First Lieutenant.”

Riza shook her head and gave a reluctant smile. She really didn’t mind the fact that he preferred to stay with her rather than go home. She’d seen his home; it was perfect for a bachelor and that was it. Of course, it was always in the back of her mind that someone would eventually notice him leaving her home at odd hours, but, in the end his presence was a comfort to her.

They never traveled together, not from his home nor from hers. She still performed her duty as his driver when he requested it, but he did so rarely. Maybe it was paranoia to the extreme, but she was certainly not in the mood for silly, intrusive questions. Not now, not when she recalled the report they had gotten from Hughes, the day before.

There had been an explosion on a train, hauling cargo from the Northern Territory, through Eastern, and toward Central. No one had been injured, thank goodness, but the train had passed through all inspection points before exploding midway between Eastern Headquarters and Central. Hughes was still in the midst of preliminary investigations, but he did tell them that he knew it was no accident, and that an incendiary device had been found. For the explosion to have occurred when it did, the device had to have been on the train when it was inspected in Eastern. Along with the thefts in Northern, the eye of suspicion was turning once again in the Colonel’s direction.

Roy had been ready to storm down and question every one of the inspectors, but between Riza and Hughes, they managed to calm him down enough to allow Hughes to handle the investigation. There was something about the whole thing picking at Riza’s intuition, something that didn’t feel right about the situation as a whole, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“If it helps, the uniform looks fantastic,” Roy said, coming behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.  Which just accentuated her swelling waistline.

“Isn’t the car here yet?” she said pointedly.

Roy held up his hands. “Okay, okay, I’m leaving!” He stood behind her as she continued to glare into the mirror. “What are you so angry about?”

“What do you think, Roy?  I’m going to look like a river barge soon.”

“Ah... yes, you are. You’re pregnant.”

She wanted to pop him in the side of his head. _Oblivious._ “Well, thank you for your sensitivity! As the other party to blame, it is your duty to deny what I am saying and tell me I’m beautiful or some such nonsense.”

“Well, that you’re beautiful goes without saying,” He grinned even as he rubbed at his temple. “I thought you knew that.”

The Master of the back-handed compliment. That was what he was. She rolled her eyes and pointed at the door. “To work. You have thirteen reports to sign and get out before noon.”

“Thirteen?” he whined, then sighed. “By noon?”

She straightened her shoulders and assumed her office persona. “By noon. And if you hide even one of them, I’ll shoot you in the foot.”

“I don’t like you much.”

“Good.” She pointed at the door and watched him shuffle out like a child sent to his corner. After she was sure that the car pulled off, she picked up her phone. After the call had been placed, she tapped her fingers on her table, waiting for Hughes to answer.

“What else do you know about the explosion?” She asked him after enduring the latest news of Elysia’s explorations into food preparation. If Roy took even one picture of their child...

“It doesn’t look good, Riza,” Hughes told her. “There is no doubt that there was a bomb. The fact that it was mistimed was pure luck. And it had to have been on the train before it reached Eastern. The bomb was made up of some of the stolen components from Tin City.”

Riza cursed. “So, what does it all mean?”

“I don’t know yet. At this preliminary stage, it looks like the inspection team in Eastern was careless, which will bring a censure upon their commander’s head. Meaning, Roy.”

“And? I know there’s more to it than that.”

“And if you’re looking for more, then someone on the inspection team had to know of the bomb, which will mean more investigation and perhaps an even more than a mere censure.” Hughes took a breath. “Either way, unless I find more, all of the inspectors from Northern to Eastern Headquarters will be in a lot of trouble, and by default–,”

“The Colonel will be watched even more carefully.”

“At the very least.”

“That is not good, Hughes.”

“Roy has only been disciplined two other times since he gained his latest promotion, both for minor infractions. Untimely processing of relevant documentation and improper requisition of supplies.”

Riza winced.

“This...it could cost him a little more than just a tap on the nose. A great deal of damage was done.”

“Are you talking suspension, Hughes?”

“It could be construed as negligence at a minimum.” There was an uncomfortable silence on the other end of the phone, accompanied by the sound of shuffling paper. “Ah, let’s see... anything from suspension of duty for thirty days... to arrest in quarters for the same... to a full-blown court-martial.”

“Court-martial?” Tiny frissons of fear danced down her spine. _There were people who were just dying to sit in on the court-martial of Roy Mustang._

“Yes, and this is why I haven’t reported my findings yet. I need to know more. This isn’t mere negligence. Kimblee was involved so there has to be more.”

There was a solitary saving grace and she snatched at it.  “They wouldn’t court-martial a State Alchemist, would they?”

“Not normally.  But if he doesn’t pass his assessment, they most certainly will.”

Both fell silent; their thoughts in perfect harmony.

“Well, do what you can,” Riza said. “I’ll do what I can to keep him from reacting if he’s questioned.”

“He has to know there’s more to this than meets the eye. He’ll keep it together.”

“Oh? Like he did when we captured Kimblee.”

Hughes sighed. “Believe me, he was holding back.  He wanted to do more.  We all did.”

A wave of guilt washed over Riza. “Maes…”

“Oh, no you don’t!” he said. “If there is anyone to worry about your situation, it’s me for starting it.”

Riza sighed. “All right... just do what you can.”

“You know I will.”

Fortunately, the office was running as normal when she arrived.  She peered at the Colonel’s desk just to make sure all of the files were still there. Despite his usual whining, he was busy at the task of applying his signature to each form.

Her mind was only marginally at ease by the time her internal alarm clock told her it was time to eat her mid-afternoon meal.

As she devoured her food with the same single-minded determination of a starved goat, she nodded when Havoc slid into the seat next to her.

“Hungry, Hawkeye?” he asked, giving her a crooked grin.

“Watch your fingers.”

Havoc laughed, then subsided and leaned closer. “Hey. Heard about the explosion.”

Riza frowned.

“If you like, I could poke around and ask a few questions.”

Riza sighed and put down her fork. “We should stay out of it, and let Hughes do his work.”

“I don't mean overtly, Hawkeye.” He leaned in closer. “I know a few guys on the inspections team. We could go out for drinks, we could gossip, I could find out things that Hughes and his people won’t get because he’s brass.”

She gave it some thought, then looked at him. “What, are you trying to get out of the office for a while, Havoc?” she asked, grinning slightly.

Havoc flushed. “He told you everything, didn’t he?”

“Of course he did. Turnabout is fair play, after all.”

“I need to get away somewhere where I can think clearly, is all,” Havoc squirmed on the bench. “Can’t do that if _he’s_ tromping in and out of the office all day long.”

Riza smiled. “ _He_ seems to be doing all right, considering.” She nudged him. “He is the younger party after all.”

“And that’s the problem.” Havoc chewed on his cigarette for a minute or two, looking around the room for eavesdroppers. “He’s barely sixteen, dammit!” he hissed. “What, am I crazy?”

Riza pushed her plate away and pulled the coffee cup closer. “That’s an honest question; I would have been disappointed if you weren’t challenging your motives.  However, first of all, sixteen is the age of majority and the age of consent. I was sixteen when I joined the army; Roy was fifteen when he became a State Alchemist.” She took a sip of the liquid tar in her cup. “Second, sixteen doesn’t fit on Edward the same way it would fit on any other boy,” she said. “His experiences stretch those years into something more resembling twice that number. He’s seen more and has been through more – in his few years than I think any of us will ever see.”

“Yeah, all of that makes sense.  It’s also almost exactly what the Colonel said,” Havoc muttered. “I guess I can’t see beyond that number, though.”

“Well, that is a problem only you must decide to overcome.” Riza stood and rubbed the small of her back. “If you wish to. It’s simple. He’s not like other teenage boys. If he were, I’d blow your man-bits off for even thinking what you’re thinking. Factor that heavily into your equation.”

“Now, that is _precisely_ what the Colonel said.”

“Well, he does have his moments of blazing wisdom, you know.”

Upon her return, she found the Colonel seated at his desk, a pasty shade of pale, holding a document on thick parchment. As he seemed incapable of speech, she walked over and took the sheet from his slack fingers.

As she read, she recalled all of the other times she’d seen this particular document. This was the fourteenth. And it was, by her calculations, early.

_And that was what Maes meant by ‘failing the assessment’._ “Your re-assessment? Isn’t that not for another three months?”

The Colonel’s vision cleared and he looked at her. “I supposed not,” he grated out. “They wish to assess me early.”

Riza felt her stomach drop. “Why would they do that?” she asked, although she knew the answer.

“If I pass, I retain my position for another year. I start a new year, as it were,” he said, leaning back and staring out of the window. “If I fail...”

If he failed, he would no longer be a State Alchemist, no longer be the _Flame Alchemist_ , and no longer be of use to the Army. Fair game to all of his detractors.

She shook herself. “ _If_? What do you mean _if_ you pass?” She said in a strident voice. “Try saying _when_ you pass, Colonel. Why wouldn’t you pass?” She looked at his desk, determined to snatch his attention from this sudden change in his affairs. “Have you finished those reports to go to Central?”

“Ah...”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’d better because I am about to suggest that you go directly to the libraries and begin your preparations.”

He winced and slid a folder from under his blotter. Riza pursed her lips and put a hand on her thigh holster. She snatched it from him and took it to her desk. “I’ll affix your seal, sir. Now, I believe the library is waiting for you.”

Riza’s mind whizzed as she put the Colonel’s official seal on the document. If – _when_ – he passed, he would start a new year. The higher brass would be less likely to send a newly re-certified Alchemist to court-martial, no matter the circumstance. The most powerful weapons of the military were beyond the reach of even the law in most cases, and a re-assessment of the Flame Alchemist would remind them of the singular value of _this_ particular weapon. Any potential intrigues surrounding the Colonel would grind back down to a slow crawl for the foreseeable future.

However, should he fail his re-assessment... the Colonel was a legendary procrastinator. If he failed due to lack of preparation or motivation, he would lose his status– thus any protections held by the office.  They would hit him and hit him hard.

Her hand froze, a pen hovering over a fresh sheet of paper. That thing she knew of as her intuition thumped her on the head and made every thought stop and take notice. Since there had been no time in her memory that her intuition failed her, she knew this to be an unfortunate thing. Because now it was screaming at her that there was more to this early assessment than just a re-arrangement of schedule.

Her ride home was congested with thoughts tumbling over ideas, mental equations fighting for supremacy in her head. Some of her conclusions were far-fetched, some seemed far too close for comfort, and all of which left her with a feeling of dread.

Hayate gave her a momentary relief as he demanded her affections for a good twenty minutes after she walked through her door. She grinned down at him, ran him through his usual commands, and fed him as soon as he was done.

As she changed, her mind tumbled back down into its whirlwind, even as she fought the downward spiral to something... she couldn’t even think about it.

_There was someone who wanted to challenge Roy; someone trying to keep him from reaching his goal. Which meant someone had to_ know _about his goal; at least enough to want him to stumble on his way to the top, if not outright fail._

She heard the key turning in the lock and moved to the living room to greet him. She wasn’t sure if she should tell him of her suspicions, then she saw his face.

He already knew.

There were shadows in his eyes as he sat on her couch. “I'm paranoid, aren’t I?”

She had prided herself on always being honest with this man. She thought it quite necessary to his survival. She wasn’t going to change that now. “I don't believe so. I’m sorry.”

He looked at her. She remembered that look; she’d first seen it six years ago when he realized his ambition. Then, she didn’t quite know what to do to remove it from his face. Today was different. It probably wasn’t the best solution, but here in this house, she could use means at her disposal that normally weren’t available. She walked over and took his hand.

“You can procrastinate for one more night,” she whispered, and drew him into the bedroom. “I promise I won’t shoot you in the foot.”

He had no smart comments for her. Nothing but silence and a slight desperation. It was almost the same as that first night between them when she yanked him from the edge of someplace dark.

She undressed him in silence. Once, only once, he pulled her in and pressed his lips to hers; hard and seeking something that he apparently found because he lay back and waited.

Once he was naked and sprawled on her bed, eyes locked on her like a lifeline, she got rid of her own clothes. Then she stood there, for a second unsure. Then she shook herself. This wasn’t about her, or about how she felt about the way she looked right then. This was about him, and removing that look of utter uncertainty, tinged with fear, from his face. It was about taking the lingering doubt out of his eyes. No lovely, soothing words would do that.  He needed something physical, something tangible to uncoil the tension.

His hands on her skin would do it, warm and firm. Her lips on his would help as well, soft and yielding. Her breasts against his chest, her legs around his, her body enveloping his. She moved over him, pulling him deeper inside of her with each movement, and watched his eyes go from dark and dead, to overflowing with storms. Finally, she saw him close his eyes and fling his head back, letting go. With a soft laugh, she pulled him and turned him so that she was beneath him and urged him on with a flick of her hips.  He stared down at her for an eternity.  His hands smoothed over his stomach, resting when he felt the flutters of their child moving inside of her, then moving down the inside of her thigh, to the backs of her knees. Still silent and calm, he pulled her legs to rest on his shoulders and moved back inside of her with a slow and even stroke.

It wasn’t long after that he came, lowering her legs, bending over and stifling his cry in her shoulder, growling his release into her neck. And even in the haze as he came down, he refused to land directly on her. He rolled to the side and pulled her with him, wrapping himself around her like a vine. She smiled and stroked whatever part of him she could reach, not minding the fact that she couldn’t breathe for a moment or two.

“What would I do without you...” he murmured into her hair.

“Probably the same thing you do every day,” she said into his chest.

He leaned back and looked into her face. “I don’t think so.” He pushed a strand of hair from her face. “I’m not sure what the hell took me so long, but I’m glad we’re no longer wasting our time.” He lowered his gaze. “Whatever is going on–,”

“Don’t–,”

“No, listen. Whatever is going on here, whether it’s nothing or something more sinister, I’ve no regrets about us. And I’m not going anywhere. You understand what I’m saying?”

Riza nodded, not daring to interrupt this declaration. She knew he probably would never repeat it again. For things such as this, it wasn’t his way to be overblown. He saved all the dramatic flair for the performances he put on for the outside world.

And that, more than anything, was why she was willing to do the things she did for him.

“I wish I could just stay here and never go home,” he whispered simply.


	31. Que Quema

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Research can be boring and dull; but add a little heat and it can get interesting real quick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit Sexual Content. Please read responsibly.
> 
> Que Quema = "It burns" or "burning" (Spanish)

]o[   ]o[   ]o[

 

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 29: Que Quema**

**Rating: M for Lemony Goodness**

**Soundtrack: Perverso – Tiziano Ferro**

Roy tried.  He really tried.  He allowed Riza to reserve one of the private reading rooms and blocked off four hours in which to prepare himself for the re-assessment. Four. He could accomplish a lot in four hours.

And for the first hour, he was good. He studied. He took notes, he expounded on the current theory ticking in his brain to the tune of 400 words in a brand new notebook. Then his hand got a cramp and his eyes crossed, and he couldn't have told anyone the difference between hydrogen and helium, and he needed to take a break.

But he couldn't. Because the minute he pushed his chair back, and the scrape of wood on the floor filled the quiet of the room, he heard the hammer of the gun cock and looked up to see Riza, in her own chair, gun pointed at him. She hadn't even looked up from her book. She wasn’t kidding either.

"You do want to pass, don't you?" was all she said.

"I have to go to the bathroom," he lied.

"Tie it in a knot."

"Riza!"

"Sit down, sir. The door is locked and I have the key. _You_ want to pee. Huh, don’t even speak to me of needing to pee. Read a few more books and we'll see."

Grumbling, he did as he was told. It was a good thing he really didn't have to piss. He could see now that he would have to be the good parent around the household.

Finally, he found a volume that captured his attention for more than five minutes. In fact, the book had him so enraptured, that the world around him faded to a mere blur. How it had managed to make it into his pile was a secret he would take to his grave. He could feel his nose touching the page, but he couldn't seem to move it.

Unfortunately, his avid attention raised his First Lieutenant's suspicions. 

"Sir, what are you reading?" she asked. Before he could even open his mouth to fashion a reply, she slipped the book he had from its neat little hiding place inside of the one-hundred-year-old journal. She gazed at the cover for a moment. 

"Pillow Book?" She glared at him. "What does this have to do with alchemy?" She cracked it, flipped a few pages.

Roy groaned and sunk an inch into his seat. Definitely the good parent. _Anything you want to do that’s fun, kid, come to me. Because your mother will kill it before it takes its first breath._

It didn't take her long before she snapped the book shut, eyes bugging, and almost rapped him on the head with it.  "That–that–," she sputtered, her face a delightful shade of pink, "That–that–was not,"

"Alchemy?" Roy said, blinking innocently.

She slammed the book on the desktop and primly returned to her own work, lips pursed.

Roy sighed and dragged another pile of papers in his direction. It was an old dissertation (of his) on the variations of circles used to manipulate hydrogen. He sighed again. He'd been such a dry ass when he was young.  


A few moments passed in reserved silence, broken only by Riza's occasional muttering about "damned smut". Roy hid his grin behind his book, wondering how long it would take. Apparently, something there had impressed her sweet, still-virgin mind.

Not long, apparently. As he peeked over the top of his old journal, he could see her eyes wander back toward the pillow book time and again. He waited.

She had to believe he wasn't looking at her because the way she slid the book off of the table was priceless. And she did exactly the same thing he'd done; fit the trim volume between the pages of the book she had in front of her.

He waited some more. He wondered how long it would take her to get to page twenty-seven.

Roy could actually hear her breathing hitch as she reached the page with the folded back corner. He grinned. 

“How...?” he heard her murmur.

“What?” he called. "Did you say something?"

“No,” she outright lied.

He lifted the book back to his face and waited. 

He heard her gasp. “Physical impossibility...”

“Are you all right, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir."  She was frozen like a deer caught in the sights of a hunter, book (or books) poised in place, her legs primly crossed at the knees. 

He would never have thought that a pregnant woman in uniform could ever possibly make him heated below the belt, but looking at this woman sitting there, face turning pink, nibbling on her bottom lip...  


He stood and finally decided to put her out of her misery. He moved slowly, watching her watch him. He crossed behind her, peering over her shoulder, making sure his lips barely brushed her ear.

“I like that one best,” he whispered, pointing to a contortion that even in his wildest fantasy he couldn't hope to accomplish.

“Wha–?” She turned her head to follow the direction of the couple pictured in the illustration. “H-have you actually did that before?" 

He looked at her, that soft, pinked cheek so close to his mouth and had a remarkable idea. She would probably say no. No, not probably, _definitely_ she would say no.  For a moment or two.

“Would you like me to show you?”

She turned, then leaned back so she could see him better. "Are you insane?  Didn't I tell you that–,"

He really couldn't resist. Her bottom lip was all pink and swollen where she'd nibbled.  And they were in a locked room with no windows, no way for anyone to see. 

He kissed her.

It was their first within the walls of Eastern Headquarters. He saw her eyes widen, registering the event in her memory, then close, as she gave a little moan.

It was Roy that broke the kiss, only because it was becoming hard for him to breathe and there were parts of him clamoring for a little more room to move around in.

"Didn't I tell you that we shouldn't do this here?" she finished, if a bit breathlessly.

"And who is going to see us?" he said with that slow, slow smile he knew turned her insides to jelly. He touched his lips to her throat, right where it met her shoulder, in a spot he knew would make her tremble.  "The door is locked, so you said yourself, and where are the windows?"

"Still... it's not... right." She faded as he took another little nip at the sweet skin behind her ear.

"And we're here for another two and a half hours, not to be disturbed."  He peered at the book again, turned a page, and pointed. "This one is fun too."

She closed the book and moved away from him. "You are supposed to be preparing for an examination, C-Colonel," she stammered. "And... There is no way you'd know about that – position!"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?"

"It's physically impossible to perform. I mean, she's all..." she waved her hand.  "And then he..."

"Yes, and yes."  He moved up to her. "Would you like me to prove it can be done?"

"Roy...we are on duty..."

He chuckled and planted a kiss on her lips again. This time he put a bit more into it, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. He cherished the moment, knowing that in a few months holding her this tight would be a challenging feat, to say the least. “Actually, we're not. Havoc is. We're studying.”

She put her arms on his, pushing slightly. "No, you are supposed to be...stop it... studying."

“My eyes hurt. My neck is stiff.” And that wasn't all that was stiff, now. “I need a break.”

“Too bad.”

“Riza...” He brushed the tip of his tongue behind her ear again and felt the tremble all the way to her feet. He put just enough of a plea in his voice. It would melt her that much he knew. “Please?”

She groaned under her breath and pulled back, giving him a look full of heat. “I can't believe you...” she started, then took his face in her hands and pulled him in for a kiss that threatened to take the top of his head off.

And like a switch, they were both galvanized into action. He moved her backward, heading for the nearest wall.  She was opening his jacket and loosening the top three buttons of his shirt, putting a hot kiss right at the base of his throat.  “I swear, you are corrupting me beyond all belief,” she gritted out.  “Just this once, you hear me? _One time_.”

“S all I need,” he muttered, hitching her against the wall, holding her carefully still.  He placed a finger on her lips to quiet her. “Not a sound. Never know who could be listening at the door, hmm?”

He could see the idea creep into her brain and take root. She moaned. He chuckled, surprised. The danger of discovery was doing something to her, something he never expected.

He hitched the hem of her skirt up, up as high as it would go, moving one hand up from her knee, over her the smooth skin of her thigh and over the firm round curve of her behind. His other hand encountered the garter belt and he leaned back with a small smile of surprise.

“Shut up,” she said before he could comment on the illicit piece of lingerie. “It's more comfortable than what they want us to wear.”

He had nothing to say; it made things easier for him anyway. And to think, all day she'd been walking around, that tiny piece of silk rubbing against that soft, smooth skin. He moaned, and dug his fingers into her ass as he pressed her into the wall devouring her lips with his. The smallest sound escaped her lips and he stopped.

“Not a sound, remember?” he grated. “Or I'll stop.”

"You are a bastard."

"Actually, my parents were married when I was born," he told her, running one hand from behind her to the junction of her thighs. He let his fingers delve into the dark, hot wetness he knew was there. Yes...oh, yes, she was wet.

And he was harder than the stone walls encasing them in this room.

He removed his hand only long enough to pull at her jacket, flip the buttons on her shirt with a well-practiced move until she was open to the waist.  He took a moment to consider his handiwork, thinking she looked magnificent with her hair still up, those glasses on, and her chest heaving slightly. 

Hungrily, he wrapped his mouth around one of her super sensitive nipples, tonguing it until she squirmed. Her hands dug into his shoulders as he worked, moving from one nipple to the other effortlessly. Her breasts were fuller, firmer, with tiny, tiny blue veins spreading from her areola outward. It made him insane. He traced one with his finger, then followed it with his tongue.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders so deep he could feel her nails through his jacket.

“I promise...” he growled, “I'll read a thousand books if I can just...” He nuzzled her breast one more time and lifted his head, watching the play of emotions wash over her face. He figured that the Fuhrer himself could walk in the room and she would probably shoot him between the eyes for interrupting them.

He took a step back and took her around the waist, turning her quickly so that she was facing the wall before she knew what he was about.

“Roy!” she gasped his name before clamping her lips shut.

He pressed himself against her back, whispering into her ear, “You tell me when I'm going too far, all right?” And he placed a gentle hand over her breast, waiting a moment for her to protest. “No way that I want to hurt you.”

She whimpered very low in her throat and he moved back a half-step, taking his hand away. Had he reminded her of--?

The look she threw over her shoulder should have incinerated him where he stood. She told him in a clear voice. “I know the difference between you...and him...” Then she turned back and pressed her forehead lightly against the wall.  He heard two soft words come from her. “Don't stop.”

He processed that for a good minute. And he was undone. The wave of heat washed over him so fast it left his nerves raw and throbbing. He moved back and again put his hand on her again.

His other hand fumbled with his own trousers, opening them and pushing/pulling them down just enough to free his cock from where it had been protesting its imprisonment.  He pressed against her again, letting her feel exactly what she was doing to him. "This is so wrong..." he said, feeling her wetness, feeling it cling to his skin like liquid velvet.” So...damned...wrong..."

She writhed, she pressed herself against him and...

Almost violently, he grabbed her underwear and pulled.  He heard a slight rip before they moved down and out of his way. The sound made her jerk. He looked up at her, checking. Her eyes were wild, but she hadn't moved or protested. He moved his hand again, this time to run it down her back. "Riza...are you...sure...?"

"Just hurry up, damn it!" she hissed. "You got this started, now finish it, for goodness sake...oh!"

She hadn't even gotten halfway through the sentence before he moved, angling himself just right and sank deep. He had to stop for a moment because from this angle, and with her tensing around him, she was so tight...so hot. She was scooting back, giving herself more room and angling herself just right.

And the low whine that came from her...his hips gained a mind of their own then, moving as if he brain had completely disconnected from that part of his body. He pulled her back against him, as close as he could, thrusting deep enough to make her eyes widen and make her stand on the tips of her toes.

"Like that?" he growled. "You want me to...finish it like...that?"

She frantically nodded and tried to move, but the way he had her pinned made it impossible. He pulled her face around, just enough to lick the corner of her mouth.

He thrust into her a couple more times before his rational thought returned, reminding him quietly to be careful of the baby. He moved her back to the wall, allowing her to arch her back again just enough, just enough for him to feel every single inch of her sliding over him, slick, smooth, oh so sweet and tight. He kept both hands on her hips, steadying her as he thrust, hard and sure, holding on to the rhythm as if his life depended on it. The idea that they could be heard through the locked door made him even harder, so hard he thought his brain would just leak from his ears.

Her body trembled and shook under him, making his eyes roll back in his head. He could feel her gasping for breath under his hand, could feel her moving her head back and forth, and could hear the sounds in the back of her throat.

Like a current passed through him, the tightness coiled near the base of his cock and spread, making his arms and legs tingle, his back spasm, as he came, cursing into the back of her neck. Then she tightened around him, tight like a vise, her cry muffled.

Lifeless, boneless, he slipped out of her and almost fell to his knees. Riza collapsed lightly against him, allowing him to wrap and arm around her waist and hold her up.

When he found the power of speech again, he asked her. "Are you all right?"

She didn't answer for such a long time, he grew worried. Straightening, he turned her to face him.

She raised bleary eyes to his. "If you ever do that again – _here at work_ – I will kill you," she said evenly.

He smiled back and kissed the corner of her mouth. "You liked it."

"That still doesn't make it all right to ... ravage me here, _at work_. At work!"

"You liked it," he repeated, stepping back and straightening his clothing.

"Completely outside the realm of what is safe," she continued, buttoning her shirt with trembling hands. "You morally bankrupt..."

"You...liked...it," he told her succinctly, running a hand through his hair to put it back into its usual randomness.

"All right, I liked it!" She said, then looked over her shoulder guiltily at the door.  "But it was still wrong," she hissed.

He grinned fully and helped her with her skirt. "That's why you liked it. Go ahead.  Admit it."

She gave him a narrow-eyed gaze. "I believe you have about a thousand books to read, Colonel," she told him. "I suggest you get to it."

He stared at her as she finished straightening herself. She gave her hair a pat for good measure and walked – albeit shakily – back to her chair. He continued to stare as she picked up the book she had been reading and returned to her place. 

Wandering back to his seat, he was amazed at how quickly she had floated back to earth and was back to her old self. He was slightly disappointed; he'd thought his performance was more earth shattering than that.

He dragged his feet on the way back to the chair.

"Oh, and, Colonel?"

He stopped before plopping back into the seat in a boneless heap.  "Yeah?"

"You will pay for that tonight when we get home."


	32. The Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward's mission turns up more information than they bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting and being patient with my posting. I'm currently working on three stories at once; but since it is Royai week, I'd thought I catch up with this little ditty.
> 
> There is a heavily inferred pairing in this chapter; you'll see more of them in the sequel Battlefield.
> 
> As always, reviews and comments make me dance. Thanks for reading!

 

]o[ ]o[ ]o[

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 30: The Beast**

**Rated: T+**

**Soundtrack: The Beast – Concrete Blond**

Riza heard the phone hit the cradle with a resounding crack. She opened her mouth to begin the usual lecture on abuse of government property when she saw the expression on the Colonel’s face.

The Colonel shoving his chair back, so hard that it almost toppled over, and stood, a firestorm brewing in his face. The office fell silent, aside from the minute sounds of a pencil breaking, paper scattering, and little wood chess pieces falling on the floor.  Breda’s muffled curse broke the tableau for a heartbeat, and then the Colonel’s voice tore it apart.

“Hawkeye, Havoc, in my office! Now!” he snarled as he stalked past, not bothering to look in their direction at all.

Riza looked at Havoc. Havoc looked utterly confused. She frowned, and then shrugged, standing and jerking her head toward the office. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times the Colonel used that tone of voice.

Havoc closed his folder and stood, looking at his tablemates. Riza followed the conversation from the corner of her eye.

“What the hell did you two do?” Breda hissed.

“I have no idea, but it can’t be good,” Havoc said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Do you know what we did?” he whispered at Riza. She quickly shook her head and stepped up her pace.

They barely missed stumbling over each other as Havoc shut the door behind them.  Riza colored, gaining some annoyance. She hated not knowing what was going on around her. Havoc placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her from tumbling, and then they both watched their commanding officer.

The way he was pacing caused a cold trickle to start travelling down her neck.

They waited a full three minutes while he paced and muttered and cursed. Finally, Riza couldn’t take it anymore. “Sir, it would help if we knew what we’ve done wrong,” she said, the brave one in this. She was proud of herself that she didn’t even flinch when he threw her a beastly, dark look.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Roy finally growled. “It’s − dammit, he can’t go _anywhere_! Can’t even go piss without getting himself −” 

He stopped and looked at the two of them. Riza had a feeling she knew now what this was about, and her worst thoughts were confirm as the Roy’s eyes skirted over Jean and then concentrated on a point right over Jean’s shoulder.  “We have to go to Central,” he finally said.

Riza frowned.  “Central?  Why?”

“That was Hughes on the phone,” Roy said through his teeth.

Jean tried for some levity. “Obviously.  Only he can make you throw a phone like that.”

“This isn’t funny.” The words stuck right between Havoc’s eyes and his jaw clicked shut.  He put a hand to the back of his neck and tried to rub the censure away.  “Edward is in the hospital.”

“What?” Riza said before Jean could even react. _Hell. Hell, hell, hell…_ “What happened?”

“I thought you’d sent reinforcements,” Jean said slowly, following Roy with his eyes.  Riza turned her attention to the Second Lieutenant then, watching him carefully.  Jean’s face was turning into something she only saw on a battlefield.

“I did. He didn’t get there quick enough.”

“What do you mean he didn’t get there quick enough?” Jean asked, again in a slow, measured voice.

_Calm, Jean,_ Riza inward prayed. _This is not the time._ This was something she understood, understood even more these days. Surprised that this particular beast was stalking Jean so quickly, she hoped he could rein himself in before he sparked Roy’s already uneven temper.

Roy gave him a quick look of warning. “Hughes said −,”

“ _Hughes_? You sent _Hughes_?” Jean blurted before thinking. Then he rubbed his hand over his face and tried again, with little success. “What could Hughes do for back up that−” he cut himself off again, willing the tumbling emotions under control. 

Riza didn’t like this. Not at all. She knew Roy had been right to allow Edward and Alphonse to go on this mission; they would have done it with or without his permission.  She knew he was right in sending the backup he chose. She gave Jean a long look, and then turned to Roy. “What did Hughes say?” she said simply, hoping to dissolve the tension.

“I didn’t send Hughes,” Roy said slowly. “I sent Armstrong.”

“And _he_ couldn’t keep them from getting hurt?” Riza asked, taking one step between Jean and Roy. Neither probably noticed, but she had seen Jean’s hands clench into hard fists.

Briefly, she wondered if this was how Roy behaved when Kimblee had attacked her.  Then, on second, startling thought, she realized she probably would behave the same way had it been Roy in this situation – powerful alchemist or no.

“It was an ambush.” Roy held up his hand when Jean would have opened his mouth again. “I _don’t_ know anything else. Maes wouldn’t give me any details over the phone.  He just said we have to go down there.” He leaned back on his desk again and stared into space for a moment. “I should have kept them from leaving. I should have been more watchful.”

“You should have realized that this was too dangerous for them−”

“ _Second Lieutenant_ ,” Riza rapped into Jean’s slowly rising voice. “Control yourself!  The Colonel said he doesn’t know what happened. And until he does, we should _stay calm_ ,” and she looked at the Colonel himself, who was glowering at a stapler on the desk, “and wait and see what happened.”

“Show him,” Roy said. Riza picked up the paper on the desk and handed it to Jean. She watched him digest what he read and saw his jaw tighten around something that was written there.

“But−” Jean started.

“Jean−” Riza said.

They both halted when they heard the crash and looked into the corner to see the poor, mutilated stapler lying wounded in the corner. Riza blinked and turned slowly to stare at the Colonel. 

_Really?_ Riza shook her head. “You both have lost your minds.” She sat on the couch and crossed her arms. “I think I’ll just sit here until you two finish destroying the whole office.” When they looked at her, she waved a hand at Jean. “Go ahead, Havoc.  Throw something. You know you want to. In addition, Colonel? You going to set the poor stapler on fire now that you broke it beyond all repair? Maybe _that_ will change the situation.”

That sent the ugly beast permeating the room back to its corner. The two men gave her a sheepish look. 

“Look,” Riza said again, her voice still calm and stern. “I understand why _both_ of you are upset.” She supposed since they weren’t going to acknowledge it, she would. She looked at Roy. “Edward and Alphonse are your responsibility. Despite what you pretend, you care for them both. But not even you can predict the future.”

Then she turned to Jean and watched him cringe at her look. _Yes, I know, Jean._ “And I certainly understand your upset.” She gave up a small smile, just tiny enough to be detected. “Trust me, I understand.”

Roy blinked, looking at Jean with a sudden realization.

Riza actually chuckled and relaxed a bit. “In any case, _you_ forgot yourself, Havoc.  This _is not_ the Colonel’s fault. Until we find out all the details, we won’t know where to point the finger.”

The two men looked at one another for a moment, completely in mental accord. Riza shook her head. _Boys were so slow at times._

“Feels like shit, doesn’t it?” Roy said softly with a crooked grin that still didn’t reach the anger in his eyes.

“Huh,” Jean grunted, rubbing at the back of his head. 

“Is that how you behaved?” Riza asked Roy, her arms crossed in front of her. 

“I think I was more restrained,” Roy said.

Jean snorted. “You didn’t have a CO to yell at,” he said. “My apologies,” he added.

“It’s only us here,” Roy said, “If you had done that outside there, though…”

“I know, I know. I’ll watch it.”

“You’d better. I know what you’re feeling, even if you don’t have a complete grasp on it.  But letting it control you in the wrong situation is unacceptable.”

Jean nodded.

Riza sighed, glad for the passing of the storm, but back to her initial worry. “While you two stand there and commiserate on the dramas of your lives, I will call for a car,” Riza said, moving to the desk and plucking the receiver up. “Havoc, you will drive.  Will that help?”

“You know, I think you’ve got the easier time of it than me,” Roy was saying to Jean.

Jean returned. “Don’t bet on it.”

]o[

At first, it was nothing new. Edward had been hospitalized enough times to make the scene in front of her seem every day.  The young alchemist was flat on his back, sheet tucked around him at waist level. What made this more serious was the unbelievable pallor of Ed’s skin. That was a paleness that spoke of much blood loss, which the numerous bandages confirmed.

She turned her attention Roy and medic. She listened for a moment, the noticed from the corner of her eye another blue uniform halfway down the hall. Riza leaned forward and got Roy’s attention. The Colonel looked the direction she pointed and saw Jean standing there, utterly at a loss. Roy quickly shook his head and held up one finger.  _Wait_ was the answer to his unspoken question.

The medic finished outlining Edward’s condition. _Entered in Critical Condition, now Serious. Three days of induced deep sedation. Mild traumatic brain injury. Evidence of attempted manual strangulation. Other serious lacerations and contusions.  Destruction of automail arm, leg. Vitals, fair. Prognosis, good_.

Roy gestured toward Jean, and Riza followed him into the room, feeling Jean’s anxious presence behind her.

As she took the chair beside the bed, she saw Al first, seated on the far end of the bed, facing the door.  Al’s eyes glowed, fixed on his brother as if no one else was in the room.

Riza moved his regard a fraction and took in the form on the bed. His eyes were closed, with deep bruises of blue beneath them. Not injury, but lack of sleep and perhaps loss of blood. There was a vivid necklace of fingerprints around Ed’s neck. There was a bandage wrapped around his head, mashing the blond hair into a sweaty mass that tangled on the pillow. A wide bandage cinched the ribcage. Broken?  Bruised?  Bruises were livid black/blue/red/green all over the upper half of the Fullmetal Alchemist. A large patch of bandage, easily the size of both of his hands, was secured to his lower left abdomen. Riza could see the blood staining spots of the surface.

Riza heard Jean take a deep breath and turned. His eyes were glassy through the light haze of smoke from his cigarette. As she watched, Jean blew the smoke out, turned on his heel and left without a word.

_“Wait….”_

Riza turned back to Edward at the sound.  Nothing looked different. “Did Edward say something?” she asked.

“Not sure,” Mustang answered.

“Brother?” Al asked.

Riza moved closer to the bed to see if she could hear well. After endless seconds of breath-held silence, his eyes finally popped open. 

He turned his head slowly and looked at Riza. She gave him a gentle smile, hoping to keep him from panicking about his surrounds. She watched his eyes slowly move up and down, taking in her whole for. She saw his gaze stop at her midsection and remembered it had been some time since she’d seen him.

Edward took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and said one word. “Wow.”

Riza's eyes narrowed at the exclamation from Edward, ignoring the hoarseness in his voice.  Apparently, however, he didn't register the warning in her regard.  “How long has it been since I've seen you?” he asked, quite undiplomatically, looking her up and down, not bothering to hide the fact that he was staring at her stomach.  “You sure are ... wow!”

“It's only been a short while, and I wouldn't say anything else about it if I were you,” Riza said quietly, fingering the gun in her lap.

Edward turned a lovely shade of purple, and then muttered.  “Why aren't you in uniform, then? You're always in uniform.”

Riza gave him a look. She looked down at the button down shirt she wore; the second stage uniforms had the best-tailored shirts. “I don't wear the jacket these days unless I absolutely have to,” she said darkly, singularly displeased with the whole idea.

“And I say she doesn't have to unless the Fuhrer is walking down the hall,” the Colonel finished, leaning against the table beside Riza. “Can't you go anywhere, Fullmetal, without getting yourself banged up?” he asked.

Riza hid her smile. Just ten minutes previous, the Colonel had been beside himself when he found out that Edward had been injured in his last adventure.

“Well, if you want to just yell at me, I guess I won't tell you what I found out.”  Edward grumbled, folding his arm behind his head.

They boy (young man, she reminded herself)’s automail appendages were lying on a table in the hospital room, waiting for the arrival of the only person he would allow to fix them.  It looked like three fingers and the knee joint were missing.  Aside from that, upon closer look at the fingerprints on his neck, and a marvelous looking black eye, he was perfectly fine. Still, the paleness gave them all a jolt. It made everything that was wrong seem that much more serious.

The Colonel opened his mouth to say something, and then thought better of it.  He crossed his arms over his chest, muttering instead, “All right, what did you find out?”

“I didn't find Scar,” Edward started, holding up his hand when the Colonel would have spoken.  “But I did find some friends of his... or what I think are friends of his.”

“Friends of his?”

Edward frowned. “They seemed to be after the same thing...”

“Which is?”

“Alchemists.”

“Tell me.”

It took Edward a few minutes to gather the words in his head. Riza could imagine that with the rattling his brain had taken, it was taking a while for him to line them all up into something that made sense.

“I went to the internment camp,” he started. “It looked like any other camp, of course – filthy, dirty – you know, the military should take better care of these people, or they're really gonna get tired of the way they've been living–,"

“I know that,” the Colonel interrupted. “What about these people you encountered?”

Edward muttered something that sounded vaguely like “Rude bastard,” under his breath, but continued. "There had been people – kids really — who said they saw Scar, but that the man had gone days before." He shrugged. "I decided to go poking around anyway. They were only kids, they could have been mistaken."

Riza pursed her lips. _As if you are much older than they were, Edward Elric_ , she chastised in her mind, but then caught herself, remembering what she had told Jean only a few days ago: _Sixteen doesn't fit on Edward the same way it would fit on any other boy._

"So, you went looking," the Colonel said, urging him to get to the point.

"And that's when I saw them..." Suddenly, without warning, Edward turned an even sicklier shade. 

"Brother..." Al whispered from the corner.

Edward shook himself and held up a hand. "No, this is important. I have to tell it." He seemed to gather himself.  "There were three of them.  Pale skin, strange clothes...all black, with these red things on their bodies."

The Colonel leaned forward. "Red things?"

"A mark...an array...something...."

"Could you draw it?"

"Of course I could draw it!" Edward said testily. "You wanna hear the rest of this?"

The Colonel leaned back, waiting.

"One of them, she was beautiful. The mark was right here," he pointed to the center of his chest. He gave the Colonel a look. " _You_ would have found her something to look at.  Long legs, dark hair, the whole thing."

A small smile turned up the corner of the Colonel's mouth. "My taste run in different directions these days," he said softly.

Riza decided that she really needed to take better care of her nails. Yes, she did.

"Oh, yeah, forgot about that." He waved his hand. "Anyway. The other was this big round blob of a person. His mark – if you wanna believe it – was on his tongue. And," Edward shuddered. "He kept saying he wanted to eat me."

"What?" Riza asked.

Edward nodded. "That's what I thought. The last one...If I could have kill him – her – whatever–I would have. That one did this to me. I didn't see if it had a mark or not, but I suspect so."

"Did they say who they were?" The Colonel asked.

Edward looked at him carefully, as if weighing his decision to tell him. Then he looked over at Al. Al was expressionless in the extreme.

"They said they were... _homunculi_."

The Colonel paled and stood straight. He was silent for a long while, and then he rapped out, “Fairy tales. Made up to scare us into behaving when we were kids. Keep us from transmuting our neighbor's cat into a potted plant.”

“Well, a fairy tale with hair that looked like a potted plant took a couple of chunks out of my ass!” Edward said leaning forward as if he wanted to have a go at the Colonel. Hissing in pain, he sat back, clutching at the bandage at his midsection. “You saying you don't believe me?” he finished breathlessly.

Riza looked between them, not understanding. _Homunculi_?

“If you're not careful, Boss, you're gonna pull your stitches out.”

The voice that dropped into the middle of the conversation sounded familiar yet wrong. Strained around the edges, breathless. Riza – and the others – looked at the door.

Jean leaned in the doorway, tapping a cigarette out of the pack. They all watched him flip it between his lips and light it oh-so-carefully before moving completely into the room.


	33. Looking Like an Answered Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Edward tells a story that sounds like a fairy tale, Team Mustang meets the new addition to Hughes' office, and Riza realizes that Roy has a lot more on the ball than she gave him credit for.

 

]o[ ]o[ ]o[

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 31 – Looking Like an Answered Prayer**

**Rated: T+**

**Soundtrack: Blessed – Christina Aguilera**

Riza rather doubted that Edward noticed it, but she didn't particularly like that dangerous look in the Lieutenant's eyes. She gave Jean a quick once over, taking in the rigid movements, the pulse pounding like a sledgehammer in the base of his neck, the minute tic in his jaw. Only the keenest of eye would recognize the frantic beat just under his skin. Riza recognized the rush of battle readiness; understood the wild rush in the veins. This, however, wasn’t battle readiness.

As if they'd choreographed it, the Colonel stood and Havoc took the chair, smooth and without a ripple of awkwardness. The Colonel moved to stand next to Riza's chair, and placed his hand on the back. She looked up at the motion and noticed the side of Mustang's mouth twitching.

“Didn't we teach you not to bite off more than you could chew?” Jean asked, stretching himself carelessly in the chair, looking for all the world as if he didn't give a damn that Edward was looking like he was on the brink of death.

Riza noted the light flush in Edwards’s cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand. She too hid her smile, knowing Jean's act for exactly what it was. If the Colonel had been beside himself, Jean had been unmanageable.

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to smoke in someone’s hospital room?” Edward shot back.  “It’s unhealthy.”

Riza saw Jean’s eyebrow arch. Then she watched, amazed, as he took a long draw off his cigarette, blow a smoke ring, and… put the thing out on the table next to the bed.

She and Roy exchanged another look. _Oh, dear,_ she thought.

"I didn't really have much of a choice," Edward mumbled, picking at a stray thread in his sheet.

"Humph," Jean grunted. "Winry is going to knock your everlovin' block off, you know?"  He actually made a wonderful attempt at a chuckle, turning and looking at the pitiful lumps of automail on the table. "You sure did a number on those."

"Yeah, well, it couldn't be helped. D'ya mind? I'm trying to give a report to the Colonel, here."

"Oh, of course." Havoc looked over at the Colonel. "Begging your pardon for the interruption."

"I think I can overlook it this time. As you were, Fullmetal."

As Edward continued to explain the attack of the homunculi, Riza covertly watched Jean check every part of Edward's body from half-lidded eyes and through the haze of his leftover cigarette smoke. She wondered if he had come to terms with his feelings yet, or if this was the death throes of his resistance.  Edward certainly did deserve someone – other than family or like family – who actually gave a damn for him, and wasn't afraid to show it. 

Of course, they all cared for the Elric brothers, but Riza was coming to discover that nothing compared to having someone there who held you in a special regard, who cared for you above and beyond what was considered the call of duty.

"So you couldn't kill them?" Roy asked. "Couldn't even stop them with your alchemy?"

"Not much," Edward answered. "Just enough to get away."

"Hmm." Roy gave the situation a few seconds of thought. "I suppose you are going to research every source you can find on them?"

"You're damned right. I saw something in my fa-father's journals once about them, but I thought like you." Edward shrugged. "I guess I'll look more carefully this time."

"Please do. I can’t have my entire office in upheaval because you don’t know the meaning of the word danger. Even Falman almost perished from worry!" Roy moved toward the door. "Have a report on my desk about it as soon as you can, hmm?"

Riza rose and started to follow, choosing not to notice that Havoc had not moved, other than to lean forward in the chair and stare at the floor between his feet. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill, Colonel."

"And do have one of the girls type it up for you this time, please? I got a real headache reading the last one. Such handwriting should be outlawed and punishable by death."

"Oh, and Colonel? There was something else, something about the one who did all of this to me."

Roy turned at the door. Riza froze, as did Jean.

"Yes?" Roy asked.

"It changed shape. That's how it got so close to me. It looked like one of the Ishballans, and then all of a sudden it ... shifted into something else. It's true form, I suppose."

Riza saw a tic jump in the Colonel's jaw. "Shapeshifting? Not good. If it could be anyone..."

"Exactly."

The Colonel nodded. "Right then. Report, my desk, as soon as you are able."

Riza and the Colonel left, pretending not to notice that Jean hadn't moved one inch from his seat.

"Do you think...?” Riza began.

Roy followed her thoughts as he had read them on the surface of her brain. "They're both smart enough to keep any overt displays to a bare minimum," the Colonel said.  "Havoc and I had a long, long talk about it."

"Expounding wisdom from on high, Colonel?"

He allowed himself to smile. "Someone has to. Who better than someone in the same boat as he?"

Riza looked down.

"You were trying to tell me something earlier, before we got notice of the Elric brother's arrival."

They sat in the chairs outside of the door, waiting for Jean to finish with his own brand of questioning.

Riza shook her head as she sat down, and picked at imaginary dust mote on her shirt. "It was just a dream I had this morning before I woke. Very vivid. It was nothing."

"No, tell me about it."

Riza looked at him suspiciously. "Are you trying to get out of reconciling those reports when we get back, sir?"

"Oh, no, never, perish the thought!" The Colonel blinked innocently. "Please tell me."

Riza rolled her eyes, the started slightly at the sound of something hitting wall in the room they’d just left. 

“Those two were going to more entertaining than they know.” The Colonel said with an evil grin.

“Hmm.”

“In any case, tell me.”

“Well. I was standing in the middle of nowhere, like a flat plane of nothing. Except it was bright. Very bright."

"Yes?"

"I felt like I was truly awake, even though I knew I was sleeping." She shuddered lightly.  "The most eerie feeling I have ever had in my life."

"Mm hmm?"

"And then right in front of me appeared this...these doors. Tall. Black. No, not black.  Gray… gray, relieved with black. Right in the middle of nowhere."

She briefly recalled the feeling she had when she saw those doors appear like that.

Cold fear gripped her for a split second, like ice trailing through her. The doors were as large and tall as nothing she’d ever seen. There were very light carvings near the bottom of the door; aside from that, it was blank. She knew those door were going to open, and she couldn't, didn't want to see what was behind them. They moved toward her, looming in her vision until they were the only thing she could see. She remembered the fear clotting in her throat like blood, she remember her eyes widening in horror.  No, the door could not open. She could not – _should_ not see–,"

"Hawkeye!"

The use of her name in that sharp tone broke her free from the recollection. She blinked and looked over at the Colonel's, whose face was etched with worry.    

She rubbed at her temple, where her pulse began to throb. "I'm sorry.  Just...it was so vivid! As if I was there, and yet I was still watching myself." She cleared her throat and looked back down the hall desk. "Really, Colonel, it was just a dream.  That gate–,"

"Gate?" 

Something in the Colonel's voice grabbed at her. She looked up to see him staring at her as if she'd grown a few extra heads. "Did you say _gate_?"

She nodded. "That's the impression I got. As if it were a ..." she searched for a better word, and found none. "Gateway." She shrugged. "The doctor told me that vividly strange dreams were a side effect of being pregnant. Maybe that's what it was. Or maybe something I saw in one of those books you were going over before, coming out in my dream." She looked over at him again. "What?"

He broke eye contact and looked down the opposite end of the hall. "Nothing, just–," as she watched, scratched the back of his head. "Nothing. Forget it."

Riza frowned, certain that he'd wanted to say something else. However, as she noticed Alphonse was moving toward them with a young, slim blonde girl that she knew well and decided not to press him. This whole situation brought closer the watchful eyes stretching from the inner offices of Central. Something about it gave Riza an uneasy feeling, and she knew that he could not afford to miss one report from now until his re-assessment.

 

]o[

 

Riza pulled the packet containing the thick parchment envelopes just as the door opened and the young sergeant came to announce visitors.

She was in the process of handing out the envelopes one to each of them when the visitors arrived. She halted long enough to salute the Lieutenant Colonel and his adjutant, and then handed the most ornate of the envelopes to the Colonel.

The Colonel stood to greet Hughes and to wait for the coming introduction.

"Colonel Mustang, permit me to introduce you to Major Frank Archer."

The man snapped to a salute. Riza covertly looked him up and down – and immediately disliked what she saw.

First, he looked like a man who spent very little time out of doors. His pallor was almost sickly, bringing to mind the spoiled upper echelon of the Amestrian military. That, with the laziness of his stance and the obsequious half-smile on his face neatly categorized him in her mind as an office grunt. A desk-jockey, a pencil pusher, the lazy breed of soldier.

She kept that all behind her eyes as his eyes rested on her for a split second. When she saw those eyes, a blank slate of ice blue, a tiny alarm bell went off in her head.

"He's been assigned as my aide, and I wanted to introduce him around to those I work closely with," Hughes was continuing. Riza watched him, and noticed that his bearing was also a bit off, somehow. Stiff, falsely cheerful, as if he were as uncomfortable around his aide as she was. "I also wanted to personally deliver this to you," he slid a large envelope across the desk toward the Colonel. "I know you've been waiting on that."

The Colonel nodded at the Major and took the envelope. Flipping it open, he slid the documents out and scanned a few lines. Suddenly his eyes glimmered and a smile touched his face for a second. "Ah, yes, I have been expecting this for some time," he said, looking at Hughes. "Did you have any problems securing it?"

Hughes shook his head, smiling as well. "Of course not. It was long overdue. In fact, those in charge were wondering what had taken so long to get this done."

"A regretful oversight on my part," the Colonel said, closing the envelope and placing it on the top of his folders. When Riza reached out to take the pile away for filing, he placed his hand over them and looked at her, shaking his head slightly.

She withdrew to her own desk and her own little envelope, which she opened, only half-listening to the casual talk between the Colonel, Hughes and the Major.

The envelopes she’d handed were exactly what she thought, an invitation to the next Officer's Ball. She pursed her lips and slid the thing into a desk drawer, fully planning to forget about it. She rarely attended those things, found them extremely boring and not intended to include it in her itinerary of things to do.

Besides, it would have involved purchasing a new gown to wear for it, which involved clothes shopping, never one of her favorite pastimes.

"The Officers' Ball?" the Colonel's voice broke through her concentration. She looked up to see him reading the card.

"Ah, yes, it's in a week," Hughes said. "Gracia and I have already made plans to attend, though we're still looking for a babysitter for my precious sweetheart. Oh! Have you seen the latest pictures? Just a darling, I tell you, getting bigger every day!"

"Why don't you ask the librarian-girl you have working for you?" the Colonel asked, quickly overriding the next Elysia love-festival. "What's her name? Sheka Sheska?"

"Ah, yes, Sheska!" Hughes tapped his temple. "Why didn't I think about her? I'll talk to her in the morning! Elysia loves her! So, are you going, Colonel?"

The Colonel twirled the thing between his fingers for a minute, before laying it on the desk. He fished the tiny return card out of the envelope and signed it with a flourish.  "I suspect I might as well have some fun before my re-assessment."

Hughes sobered for a moment and the Major leaned forward. "I'd forgotten about that.  It's in two weeks, isn't it? You ready?"

The Colonel gave his patented cocky grin. "I was born ready." He even went so far as to snap his fingers and incinerate the envelope that had contained the invitation.

Riza found something on the top of her desk that was extremely interesting, hiding her expression carefully. He wasn't ready. She knew that as well as she knew her own name. He was still hip deep in research on the fake flame alchemy. However, she knew he wouldn't say so, not with a stranger in front of him.

Hughes knew this as well, just from the performance. He laughed and bent his head, running his hand through his hair, using the motion to give Riza a covert glance. She caught it and lowered her eyes, acknowledging the silent message.

"Are those examinations hard, sir?" The Major asked earnestly.

The Colonel gave him a narrow-eyed look. "Not really. As long as I stay practiced and keep my studies up to date, the examination is literally a snap for me." He smiled into the man's face. "Do you plan to take the exam?" He turned to Hughes. "Hadn't heard about any new alchemists in the ranks."

"No, sir!" Archer smiled ingratiatingly. "I'm just curious."

"He's the most curious man I've ever met," Hughes added.

Riza caught the double meaning there.

"Besides myself, that is," he continued. "I suppose that's why he was assigned to me.  Always asking questions..."

Anyone who knew Hughes would have had to been deaf not to pick up the rest of the hidden message. Riza contemplated the folder in front of her. _The Archer person was too nosy by half_ , Hughes was saying. She wondered what kind of questions he was asking that Hughes was refusing to answer.

"Are you planning on attending, First Lieutenant?" Hughes asked her, startling her out of her reverie. "The Ball, that is."

"Sir? Oh, no, sir." she said quietly, trying to avoid the conversation all together.

"She's never been one for these affairs," the Colonel explained to the Major, who frowned in question.

"I hear that they are wonderful," Archer said, his voice conveying excitement. Those eyes were searching, however. "I'll certainly be attending. This'll be my first."

That over eager voice was seriously beginning to grate on Riza nerves, which were beginning to fray beneath the undercurrent of what was unsaid. The Colonel said he was going to go. He'd signed the response card already. 

She wondered fleetingly who he thought he was going to take.

Hughes stood. The Major had as well. "Well, I suppose we'll continue on through, then," Hughes said. He saluted, "Thanks for taking the time to meet my new aide, sir."

The Colonel stood and gave them a casual salute. "Hope you enjoy unraveling puzzles, Major," he told Archer. "Because that is one thing you are truly going to be busy with."

"Unraveling mysteries is my specialty, sir," Archer told him, then saluted and followed the Lieutenant Colonel out.

The Colonel watched them leave with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Did anyone else find him...odd?" Havoc muttered over his file.

"As counterfeit as a wood mark," Breda added.

"As oily as a drum of motor oil," Fuery said.

Even Falman chimed in. "Wonder why he was assigned to Hughes?" he asked rhetorically. "Can't see the Lieutenant Colonel asking for help... at least not that kind of help."

"Didn't look like he had much choice," the Colonel said quietly. He looked over at Riza, who was doing her best to give him a normal glance. "What did you think?"

She shook her head. "My instincts tell me that all of you are right. There is more to him than meets the eye, sir."

His eyebrow quivered at the honorific. She winced inwardly; she hadn't meant to make it sound so pointed.

Neither did she think that the idea of the Colonel going to an Officers' ball would irritate her so.

"So, sir, who're you taking to the Ball?" Breda asked. Riza looked over at him and could see him working out odds in his head even as they spoke.

The Colonel frowned, blinked, and then scrubbed at his head with a hand. "I hadn't...really thought about it..." he started. 

"I would think that Charlotte would be heartbroken if you didn't ask her to escort you," Havoc drawled. “You are still seeing her, aren’t you?”

The Colonel stared at him, a ruddy color crawling up his neck. "Ah... she doesn't really enjoy these things too much."

"Oh? She seemed to enjoy the last one, as I recall," Jean came back with, thoroughly enjoying himself. He gave Riza a look. "You really should come this time too, Hawkeye.  I guarantee you'll enjoy it."

She wanted to throw something at the Lieutenant. One of Hughes knives preferably.  She shook her head. "I'm not going to haul this bulk over to that kind of event," she said.  "I never enjoyed those silly social affairs, in any case."

"Oh, you've got a few months to go before you're a walking tank, Lieutenant," her immediate subordinate said, his eyes brimming over with humor. "I'll be honored to escort you if you don't have an escort already."

Riza looked at him, wondering if every screw was loose in his head. Perhaps his extra-official duties were knocking things askew in his brainpan. "Ah...no."

Breda slapped Havoc in the back of his head, rattling his eyeballs around. "Of course she doesn't want you to take her!" he said.

Riza's jaw dropped an inch. _What?_

"She wants the father of her child to take her. You're cracked, Havoc."

Riza inwardly sighed. Then quickly recovered. "No!" She stammered. "He-he finds these type of things a real bother. He wouldn't come unless he's forced to."

"You know," the Colonel suddenly said slowly. "I do think it's a good idea, though." He looked over at her. "You need to get out more, First Lieutenant. You should go."

"I could never go unescorted to this type of function in my condition, sir," she said through gritted teeth.

The Colonel waved his hand in the air in breezy manner. Which should have warned Riza that his next words were bound to make her want to strike him. "I didn't say you should go unescorted." He peered at her. "There is another invitation, isn't there?"

Riza blinked and looked down at the desk, where the last invitation lay. She glanced at the front of the envelope, and then almost swallowed her tongue. "Edward?" She looked over at her Commanding Officer as if he were quite mad. "You think … that Edward… escort me?"

"I think it would do the young man some good to see the nicer parts of being a dog of the military," said the Colonel, looking as pleased with himself as he possibly could.

"He won't go," Havoc said in a strangely choked voice.

"Oh, I think I can get him to go. It'll be perfect!" He clapped his hands together. "Kill two birds with one stone. Just like taking your little brother."

Riza briefly thought of removing a bullet from her gun and manually planting it right between the Colonel's shifty, little, mischief-filled eyes. It probably wouldn't take too much effort; his skull had apparently gotten as soft as day old butter.

"Sign that reply card, First Lieutenant," he told her. "You're going to show Fullmetal the brighter side of the military!"

She glared at the top of his head as he bent to his tasks. She would show Edward the "brighter side of the military"... if she didn't go to prison for murder first.

She certainly made him feel like a man awaiting execution that evening. He was probably thinking about keeping on his overcoat, with the frosty reception he was receiving from her.

"What in the world is wrong with you, Riza?" he asked helplessly. He tried to help her put together a quick meal for the two of them, but she was making it abundantly clear that she didn't want him anywhere near her.

Really? She didn't. How dare he? Did he think she wanted...? Unintelligible curses tumbled around in her mind, the only things she could find to describe the feeling going through her.

"Would you please talk to me?" he asked, leaning against the kitchen table. "I know you're angry. What have you to be angry about?"

She gave him a sizzling glare. "You think I want to go to that damned Officers' Ball – with a sixteen-year-old – just to watch you parade around one of those perfectly ravishing beauties you're so famous for?" She spat before she had a chance to think about it. She hated herself for even feeling this way, but she swore she would always be honest with him. Well, there was honesty and she hoped he choked on it.

Black Hayate added his own commentary by giving a little angry growl and attaching his teeth to Roy's pant leg.

His gaped at her even as he tried to shake the dog loose. "I wasn't planning on taking _anyone_ to the ball," he said, stunned. "How could you even think I would?"

She halted in the process of cutting the thick crusty bread. "What?"

"You heard me, Riza." He moved to stand next to her, still dragging the dog. "They still believe that I'm seeing the wonderful Charlotte. You heard me tell them that she wasn't interested in those kind of affairs. Which was the truth. I set it up perfectly so that they wouldn't expect me to bring someone." He snorted. “They probably think I’m going to flirt all of their escorts away from them.”

She turned and stared at him.

"Just like you told them that your, well, significant other wouldn't want to attend either," he continued softly. "I was planning on going alone."

She looked down at the counter and wondered if she could fit down the kitchen drain.  She was completely and utterly mortified, acting like a jealous little harpy.

"Then why did you insist I take _Edward_ of all people?" she wanted to know.

"That was for Jean's benefit," he said grinning like a little puppy with the biggest bone in the world. He reached down and scooped the puppy up, ignoring the surprised little yip. "Did you even see his face when I suggested it?"

Riza thought about it, feeling a smile coming from under her embarrassment. "I really wasn't paying attention," she said. "If you want to know the truth, I was still thinking about that Archer creature."

"You really don't like him?"

"He's not what he seems, Roy," she warned. She put the bread on a plate and began to slice cheese. "And I don't think Hughes was too happy to have him as an aide."

"Well, I noticed that right off," Roy said. "I wonder what's behind it."

"And what was it that Hughes felt he absolutely had to deliver to you in person?"

Roy shook himself, suddenly remembering. He smiled. "Oh, that! You'll find out tomorrow."

"Roy."

"Oh, don't worry, it's nothing bad." He gave her that look that she should have begun to dread. "Trust me."

"I hate when you say that."

"I know."

The next day found her still wondering why he was so pleased with himself. He even whistled as he went about his work, churning out signatures as if his own arm were made of automail, making phone calls with a calm efficiency that boggled her mind.

In fact, he seemed to make himself even busier as the day came closer to ending, as if he actually wanted to finish all of his work before 1700 hours. She wished she had Hughes’ camera, so she could record the scene for posterity.

Riza managed to ignore his antics until about one-half hour before departure time.  Then she noted that it had gotten remarkably silent in the office, and looked up to find the others looking at her expectantly.

She looked around at them cautiously. "What?"

"Could you come here, First Lieutenant?” the Colonel asked in a slightly formal voice. She looked over at him in surprise. "I have something I need to discuss before I dismiss you for the day."

She rose and moved to the desk, wondering if she had forgotten something on his calendar that day, if she'd given him the wrong folder. He'd never sounded so harsh before.

She stood at attention in front of him. He rose and moved to stand in front of her.

He stared at her for an eternity, until she actually wanted to squirm under that piercing regard. What had she done?

The others were also watching, most of them staring in question at their commanding officer.

"First Lieutenant. You have been in working in my service for almost seven years," he began. "In those years, you have continued to perform in an exemplary, professional manner. I have never had cause to censure you, or find you in dereliction of your duties in any way."

She stood straighter and waited. Usually, when a commanding officer started like that, there was another shoe dropping somewhere in the distance.

"I've reviewed your personnel records in some detail," he continued. "And I've noted that you haven't been placed forward for a promotion in almost four years. In this, I find myself remiss."

Riza's eyes widened slightly, though she didn't alter her stance one small inch.

"Several months ago, I placed your name forward for a promotion and received a reply yesterday."

The others began murmuring around her. She darted her eyes around, catching the smile beginning on Havoc's face, the wide-eyed surprise touching Falman's features, the shock covering both Breda and Feury's expression.

The Colonel slipped open the envelope he'd received from Hughes again and slid out a formally written document. He laid that on his desk, and then upended the envelope. 

She dared a quick look, after which she fixed her eyes straight ahead again. She found that she'd had suddenly lost the power to think properly.

In the middle of his palm lay two little gold stars, one for each of her shoulders.

He leaned forward and pinned the first one to her right shoulder, saying as he did so.  "First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. For exemplary performance in the line of duty, I hereby promote you to the rank of Captain, entitling you to all privileges and entitlements of an officer of such a rank."

When he finished pinning the stars on her shoulders, he straightened and offered her the salute he saved for the most solemn of occasions. The others followed suit.

She was now only two ranks below him. He was trying to close the gap between them, to make easier to move out of his chain of command. It seemed innocent enough to anyone on the outside; he had been remiss in not having the proper paperwork set up for a promotion before now, but she'd never thought about it. No matter her rank, she would continue to serve under him, and he knew that.

She found herself forcing her knees to stiffen as she straightened and tightened up her salute. The Colonel looked utterly solemn, but she could see, way in the back of his eyes, a merriment he could barely contain.

That night, Dennison took her home alone. Roy must have known she needed time to herself to process the whole affair. It was the last thing she expected in such turbulent times, but it was the first thing she should have expected from that maverick of a Colonel.

Hughes knew about it, she suddenly realized. As she opened her door, she was tempted to go to her phone and call him, telling him she would never forgive him for keeping such a wonderful surprise from her. Then, she paused as she noted the large, flat box laying on her sofa.

Many years before, when she was still a young girl, spoiled rotten by her widowed grandfather, she recalled receiving such a beautiful box, a week-before her so-called coming out party. It lay on her bed, surrounded by other small boxes, waiting only for her eager hands to remove the large ribbon.

She sat beside the box and gently pushed away the ribbon that wrapped it, another flame-colored ribbon. Though that told her immediately whom it was from, it did not tell her what it was.

When she lifted the lid, she felt all the breath leave her.

It was a blue as dark as midnight, and made of pure velvet. She touched it, half-afraid it would disappear in a puff of smoke. She ran her hands across the golden satin ribbon.  Upon closer inspection, she saw that the ribbon was a brocade, embroidered with three stars in the same gold color. She could picture the masterpiece leaving a long fall of heavy fabric to the floor.

She had no doubt in her mind that it would fit her like a glove. She lifted it half out of the box and gazed at it in shock, wondering how long it had taken him to have this thing made. Then she noted the envelope, folded between the bodice and the skirt. She picked it up and laid the gown back into the box. She opened the envelope with shaking hands.

_It always takes me a while to remember that I am a clod when dealing with such things. I should have been clearer in letting you know that I never intended to bring anyone else to the Officers' Ball. How could I, when no one else even stirs the slightest bit of interest?_

_I saw the dread in your eyes when I wondered what you were going to wear.  I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of finding something I think will suit you well._

_I'll do my best to be polite and pay attention to the pretty little things that will be fluttering around me all night, but know that, between you and me, I will not be able to take my eyes off of you._

He should have known better than to do something like this to a poor, defenseless, pregnant woman. Now she would have to kill him for making her cry like the silly little sixteen-year hoyden she'd been when her grandfather had made her the prettiest girl in her town.

Then, she thought, chuckling to herself, she would make sure to tell their child what a wonderfully crazy father he or she had.


	34. Elements in Harmony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Spheres are in commotion; the elements in harmony.

 

]o[ ]o[ ]o[

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 32: The Elements in Harmony**

**Rating: T+**

**_Soundtrack – She Blinded Me with Science, Thomas Dolby_ **

“The hell?” Maes’ voice sounded breathless and scattered over the phone.

“Maes, it’s me, Roy.”

“Roy... you do know it’s two in the morning, right?”

Roy looked at the clock and muttered a curse under his breath. The hour of the morning was beside the point. “Look, I got a question...”

“I was busy, you know.”

Roy looked at the phone. Maes’ voice didn’t have the usual slur of someone in the middle of sleep. In fact, it sounded as if the man had been running around or some such nonsense. “Busy? At two in the morning?  Doesn’t Gracia complain when you bring work home?”

“Yes she does, and that’s why I’m busy.”

“What? Maes, could you speak sense? I have something very important to ask you.”

He heard a heavy sigh, then silence for good minute. “Let’s see if I can explain it to you,” Maes growled. “You see, Elysia has been asking her mother and me for a brother or sister for some time. I have this habit of wanting to give my wonderfully precious daughter everything she wants. You following me?”

“Well, you do spoil the girl rotten, Maes. Maybe you should–,”

“Roy, I have been trying to oblige my daughter and give her the little sibling she desires, if you catch my meaning. But that’s really hard, when someone is calling me at two o’clock in the morning!”

Roy thought about that for a long moment, then shook his head frantically to remove the vision from his mind. “Oh, god, man! That’s too much information even for me! My brain can only handle so much of that kind of thing! I mean, I know we’re close but–,”

“What. Do. You. Want.”

“The transfer.”

Maes groaned. “What are you talking about?”

“The transfer. Riza’s.”

“What?”

“Riza? Hawkeye? My new Captain. Her transfer?”

Silence from the other end of the phone again. Roy impatiently tapped his fingers on the phone table, waiting. Then he heard, “Oh, dear sweet...don’t you ever read the paperwork you’ve been given?”

“Of course I did!” This time the silence was full of Maes’ unspoken opinion about that lie. “Okay...maybe I didn’t. But, what do I do? I don’t want to have to trans–,”

“Delayed.”

“What?”

Another healthy sigh. “De-layed. At your discretion.”

Roy looked at the phone. “How did you manage that?” he wanted to know.

Roy heard rustling, a few muttered curses about Roy’s nether regions and a soft voice in the background. That vision of Maes... and Gracia... threatened again, and this time he actually scrubbed at his head with his free hand, trying to rid himself of the things burning behind his eyes. Damn! It was like picturing your sister... he shuddered.

“You know, you’d better be grateful I like you so much...” Maes started in that world-weary voice of his.

“You have my everlasting gratitude,” Roy said quickly. “Now, how did you manage to get a delay in Riza’s transfer?”

“You do have people in high places who actually like your annoying ass, you know,” Maes told him. “I talked to a few of them...explained how she’s very integral to the smooth operations of Eastern Headquarters.” He laughed. “I dropped a few hints that if she were transferred right away, that your offices would collapse under the weight of disorganization that would descend the minute she closed the door behind her.”

“Nice of you to mention that,” Roy said sarcastically.

“Were those words of gratitude? I’m sure I just heard you say ‘thank you, Maes’. And – wait – was that ‘What would I do without you, Maes?’”

“Thank you, Maes,” Roy said through gritted teeth. “What would I do without you, Maes?”

Maes laughed again. “And Doctor Winters helped as well. Suggested it wouldn’t be a good idea to transfer her right this time, given her condition.”

Roy frowned. “Maes, is there something about Riza’s condition that you all aren’t telling me? I mean, is there something wrong–,”

“Quit worrying. Nothing is wrong with Riza or the baby. Such a move can prove to be stressful, and the good Doctor reminded those who are in charge of this kind of thing that stress isn’t good for a developing baby. Very simple. Very convenient.”

“Are you sure it won’t raise suspicions?”

“Do you know how many newly promoted officers are waiting for transfer, Roy?” Maes told him. “I do. You’d better feel fortunate that our wonderful military is not as organized as we all would like it to be. Now, can I go? I really would like to get back to my nice warm bed, and–,”

“Please, Maes. You don’t have to share.”

Maes chuckled. “You sure? Could give you a few pointers you know.”

Roy told his best friend what he could do with himself and his pointers.

“Thanks, but I have a wife to take care of that. Maybe you should think about getting one yourself.  I know of a fine young lady–,”

Roy hung up. Relieved that his world would continue to revolve just the way he wanted, he collapsed on the couch where he sat. Before sleep completely overtook him, he wondered if Riza liked the gown.

Entering the office later that morning, he saw something that threatened to make the top of his head come completely off.

“Captain Hawkeye! What the hell are you doing?”

Riza looked up guiltily. She gave a weak smile and looked down at the large box she was dragging across the floor. “Ah...”

“You’ve lost your mind, right?” He almost yelled, walking up to her. “Explain yourself. What are you doing?”

“I was packing.”

Roy’s brain scrambled to a halt for a second. “Packing?” he asked somewhat dumbly. “Why?”

“Well...I just wanted to be ready when you tell me where I’m being transferred to. Sir.”

Roy looked at her carefully, and finally noted the tinge of worry in her eyes. However, for the moment, that was unimportant. “Couldn’t you have gotten someone to help you?  That box must weigh at least thirty pounds!”

“Do you see anyone here?” Riza wanted to know. “They’re all out.”

“Out? Where they hell are they?”

“Hiding.” She actually tried tugging on the box again until she caught his incredulous look.

“Hiding from?”

“Edward. He’s coming in this morning and no one wants to be around when he finds out about the Ball.”

“Would you leave that box alone?” He moved over, picked up the box, and took it to the large table. “What the hell is in this thing anyway?”

“Most of the things in my desk. Everything that I don’t really need.”

He stared at her and hefted the box one more time. Fifty pounds or he was a desk chair.

“Well, it has been quite a few years. Things accumulate.”

She looked miserable, he suddenly realized. And he knew the reason for it.

“Put those things back in your desk, Captain,” he told her as he turned toward his desk. “You aren’t going anywhere yet.”

He could actually hear her confusion in the air almost as well as he could hear the flow of oxygen in the air when he snapped his fingers. “What? I thought–,”

“It’s come to my attention that there have been too many officers promoted and not enough places to send them all,” he continued. “Your transfer has been delayed, upon my discretion.”

“Delayed?”

He turned to look at her, almost smiling at the poleaxed look on her face. She’d probably spent all morning getting herself mentally prepared to leave this office, and these Headquarters, for somewhere else. “Delayed. On my discretion.” He turned back to his desk, shuffled a few of the files there. “If you have any further questions, I can answer them later. Right now, I need you to hurry up and get your desk back in order. I’ll need your assistance in research today.”

There was an eternal silence coming from behind him. He dared not turn to look. Then he heard, quietly, “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

He hoped that she would hurry; he didn’t relish being in the same room as Edward, either, when he found out about the Officer’s Ball.

When he entered the reading room and heard her turn the lock, he grinned inside, remembering the last time they’d been in here. She probably thought about it too, to tell from the way she was refusing to meet his eyes. Though that wasn’t what he’d planned for their time here today, he was relieved that she had locked the door. He could talk to her the way he wanted her in the protection of this room. He wished there were more of these kind of rooms in Headquarters.

“I have another surprise for you,” he told her.

That made her look up. Damn, she was wary and skittish today. She was trying so hard to maintain her professionalism. She was getting a tiny wrinkle in between her eyes from her concentration. “You mean there’s more?” she asked, and her voice even sounded strained.

He frowned, determined more than ever to rid her of her dark mood. He took the stack of folders from her and rifled through them looking for one in particular. He found it, and with a flourish pulled it out and placed it in front of her. “The research you requested,” he announced.

She looked at the folder, wide-eyed. “You finished it?”

“Well, I found as much as I could on the subject of alchemy and its hereditary aspects.”  He plopped in the chair and pulled another of the folders toward him. “There was precious little of it. I guess no one really thought of it as an important subject.”

She opened the folder and began to read. “Well, someone should have. At least a woman alchemist should have.” She looked up at him. “Are there any women state alchemists?”

“A few.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” She started reading in earnest.

He went back to his own file. He skimmed over the notes he’d taken on the use of hydrogen in air travel, when he heard her swift intake of breath. He looked over the folder. “What?”

“So there was at least one person who thought that there is a genetic aspect to the ability.”

“Yeah. Terrance Daye. He lived about seventy-five years ago.”

“There must be a chemical, for lack of a better word, aspect of alchemy that is passed down from generation to generation.” she quoted, running her finger along the line as she read. “There must be something within an alchemist that allows him to have the abilities of deconstruction and reconstruction...”

“That does make sense,” Roy commented. “I always wondered exactly how I was able to break down the oxygen in the air and refashion it into a flame.”

“What about your parents, Roy? Were either of them alchemists?”

“My aunt seems to think that my father was an alchemist.” He smiled grimly. “She never said much about them, other than they caused quite a bit of scandal by having me.”

“She must have cared a lot about them to take in their only son.”

“I suppose.”

Riza nodded and went back to reading. He stared at her for a moment, waiting for another comment. “Riza?”

“Hmm?”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“What?” she frowned?

“That my mother and father weren’t...”

Riza snorted. “No. If it did, I’d be one hell of a hypocrite.”  She smiled at him, a real smile this time. “I’m not married to the father of my child, now am I?”

He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right.” He cleared his throat. “You know why I can’t --,”

Riza didn’t bother looking up. “If we were married, I couldn’t watch your back,” she said calmly. “All right. I have a question, since I don’t have the advantages that you have when it comes to this... craft.” She closed the folder and folded her hands on top of it. “I know that your knowledge includes the chemical makeup of most things. You have to know that, right, in order to be able to move to the next step of deconstruction. That includes the human body, right?”

Roy nodded. “It is one of the first things we are taught. If we know what’s inside of each of us, it’s easier to relate those chemicals and elements to the things in the world around us. That knowledge helps us maintain that balance we need to transmute.”  He leaned back. He enjoyed sharing his craft this way. It was something he had a rare opportunity to do. If he hadn’t had his goals, and hadn’t become a State Alchemist, he probably would have been a teacher of theory. “To be able to transmute oxygen, I have to know how much of what in the air in front of me is actually oxygen and how much the carbon dioxide I exhale.”

“Okay, then think on this a minute. Right now, my body contains one and one-half times more blood volume than that of a normal person.”

He blinked. “That’s right; it does.”

She nodded. “The baby takes all of its nourishment from me. So my body compensates in several different ways. The volume of blood is one thing. In fact, my whole body’s composition has gone through a change, considering that my body is nourishing the baby. So how does that affect the balance?”

Roy tilted his head, amazed. “I really wouldn’t know. I’ve never really taken that line of thought. I suppose it would affect a few things.”

“Conversely, I’m carrying a baby that is almost fully formed.” She put her hand over her stomach. “I’m six months gone, now. This baby is almost fully baked. It has almost the same composition as I do. So it’s like I’m carrying an extra amount of those things that make up a human inside of me.”

“Extra water,” Roy murmured. “Extra carbon, phosphorus...you’re right.”

“And say this Daye person is right, and there is something extra inside of an alchemist that makes them able to do what they do. If I share the same blood – the same everything – with the baby inside of me and he or she _is_ an alchemist, what happens to me?”

Roy sat straight up. “What do you mean?”

She pushed the folder aside and stared at the tabletop for a moment. Then she looked up and looked him in the eye. Roy knew that look; he’d seen it every time she had to tell him something she would rather not. “Give me your pen,” she asked.

He handed it over, wondering what she was going to do, and positive that he wouldn’t care for it.

She took it, and slid a blank piece of paper toward herself. Then she took one of the pieces of paper from the folder and ripped it into many small pieces.

“Hey!  What are you doing?  I planned to use that–,”

She held up a hand. “Hush. I need to think for a minute. Remember...” She started to draw on the blank sheet. He watched, stunned as she drew a rough array, one basic to the use of transmutation. He was impressed; her free hand circle was perfect.

“Riza, what...” he started to say and stopped when she held up a hand again.

“That rose you made for me? The one you made from the broken pieces of my teacup and saucer. I kept the piece of paper you drew the array on.” She blushed at that. “One day, I found a stray shard of ceramic under the kitchen table.” She placed the pieces of paper in the center of the array. “I wasn’t thinking. I just put it down, and I happened to put the thing on the piece of paper.” 

As he watched, knowing where she was going with this, and unwilling to believe it, she stared at the paper for a moment, as if willing herself. Then she nodded, as if coming to some conclusion inside of her head. She placed her hands on the paper.

There was a flash of light – not as big as he would have expected – and when it cleared, what he saw astounded him.

The paper she’d torn up was whole. Perfect. Unblemished, even. He reached over and took it from her. It looked as the same as when he’d first put it in the folder.

“I don’t have any of the ability, Roy,” she whispered, leaning back and putting a hand to her forehead. “You know that. My father would was very clear in letting me know that I was useless.”

“That was because you were a female,” Roy said, “It had nothing to do with your ability.”

“Well, if I had any potential, it would have shown itself by now. Actually, that hurts.”

“Then – why?  How–?”

“I don’t know. But, after it happened, I mentioned it to Doctor Winters.” The look in Riza’s eyes was uneasy, and gave him the feeling that he never wanted to meet this doctor of hers.

“Did you show her this?”

Riza shook her head. “Of course not. I wanted to know all I could before I went that far. I just asked if she’d heard anything about it.” She shrugged. “I thought she would break a blood vessel, she got so excited. Then she asked me to let her know if anything... untoward... happened in relation to my question. She made it seem very important that I tell her.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose it would be important if a woman who was carrying an alchemist manifested the ability while pregnant.” Then it clicked into place, why she was so nervous about this, and why she’d asked him to look up everything he could on the entire subject. “It would make a good way,” he said slowly, “to identify potential alchemists.”

“If the ability to perform alchemy were hereditary, if it were genetic,” Riza said quietly, each word dropping down his spine like shards of ice, “then it would be so easy to actually breed alchemists. And... If the mother suddenly responded to the stimulation of the ability that the research and study you do brings, it would be a perfect way to ensure that–,”

“The army never runs out of alchemists.”

“Perfectly trained weapons.”

He stared at her. “It’s completely far-fetched, Riza. Too far-fetched. Crazy. Impossible!”

“Far-fetched? Perhaps.” She blinked once, and then gave him that steady gaze again. “To most people out there, those who don’t see what you and your kind do every day, so is alchemy. Crazy? Again, perhaps. Do you know how crazy it looks when you snap your fingers and make something go boom? Impossible?  How impossible was it for me to do that?” She gestured at the paper. “I _shouldn’t_ be able to do that, but I did. I think it’s because our baby has the same abilities that you have.”

Then, she reached into her pocket, and pulled out a tiny ceramic rose, similar, but definitely not the same one he’d given her. She pushed it across the table toward him.


	36. When the Wrong Word Goes in the Right Ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Colonel Mustang,” General Hakuro spoke, drawing his attention to that side of the table. “Your assessment will proceed in twenty minutes. However, there is a matter that we must discuss with you before then.”

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 34: When the Wrong Word Goes in the Right Ear**

**Rating: T**

**_Soundtrack: One Thing Leads to Another – The Fixx_ **

 

The rest of the Ball went by without incident. Eventually, Colonel did come to her and claim his dance from her – the last dance of the evening, to be exact.

“It’s all right, Captain,” he said, placing his hands properly on her shoulder and at her waist. “That ass Archer is gone.”

Riza relaxed at that bit of news. “What did he say to you, Colonel? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that upset in a setting like this.” It was the best she could do to let him know that he had skated on very thin ice back there.

He took the hint. “I apologize. He was... he actually implied that your condition might become a detriment to my unit.”

“What?” Riza managed to keep her voice down.

The Colonel nodded. “Exactly. Apparently, he’s of the school that pregnant soldiers are an inconvenience to the military and should be shelved until they give birth.” That spark of anger was back in his eye, although to anyone looking he was properly neutral. “Oh, he didn’t quite say it in those words, but that was the gist.”

“Colonel, when we find out what the hell he’s after, can I empty a clip into him?” She smiled with false cheer. “Please?”

He chuckled. “I might consider it your sworn duty as a proper soldier of this man’s army.”

“I certainly hope you didn’t react toward what he said the way you did after he left,” she said quietly.

“Of course not. As much as I wanted to incinerate him for even implying such a thing, I didn’t think the sludge spot he would have left behind would have been an acceptable decoration for such an event.”

“I think you and Hughes should go have a few drinks after this,” she suggested. “Gracia has invited me to take tea with her this evening.”

“Isn’t that kind of late for tea?” he asked, frowning.

“Gracia saw Doctor Winters when she was carrying Elysia,” Riza said simply. The Colonel had no further comment for her.

Edward finally appeared from his hiding place, having realized that the ball was almost over. Still disgruntled to be there, Riza was surprised to see that he managed to maintain his immaculate appearance.

“Did you enjoy your first Officers’ Ball, Edward?” she asked him, noticing the light smell of cigarette tobacco around his person. She wondered how much time he’d gotten to spend with Jean.

“It was okay,” he muttered reluctantly. “As long as I don’t have to speak to too many more of these old blow-hard generals.”

She chuckled. “It is part of the job, Edward.”

“Not my part.”

Riza shook her head. The saw Gracia gesturing at her and moved toward the black car that awaited them.

Inside, Riza kicked off the little slippers and wriggled her toes. “I have been dying to do that!”

Gracia laughed and did the same. “Damned inconvenient things,” she said. “You know, if you are very tired, you are more than welcome to a bed. I’m sure I have some spare clothes from my time.”

Riza smiled in wholehearted gratitude. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

In the small, but comfortably furnished quarters, she waited while Gracia checked on her daughter. “Sleeping like an angel,” she said as she came into the front room. “It’s a good thing her father isn’t here with me, or she would wake up and be awake half the night.”

“Hm... I’m not sure I’m looking forward to that part of this thing,” Riza said.

“I wanted to ask you...” Gracia actually looked a bit uncomfortable as she made herself busy making coffee.

“Gracia, please. Your husband and the Colonel have been friends since they knew how to get themselves into trouble together,” Riza said. “I would like us to become friends as well. Feel free to speak freely.”  Because she was intending to do just that herself.

“Does the idea of having this baby worry you?” Gracia asked. “I mean, as far as your duties go.”

“Almost every other day,” Riza admitted, taking the cup from her. “The bigger I get, the more I worry about being able to perform properly.”  Her eyes grew troubled. “It’s important that I stay active for as long as I can.”

Gracia nodded. “I understand. You and Roy have been a team for years.”  She tilted her head. “What took the two of you so long to...solidify your relationship?”

“I never actually thought it was possible,” Riza shrugged. “And I had no idea that the Col – Roy – had those kind of feelings for me.”

“You had feelings for him this whole time?”

Riza shook her head. “Actually, when I first met him, face to face, we were very young. I couldn’t stand him.” She smiled in remembrance. “I thought him the most arrogant little piss-ant in the world.”

“Yet later, you still decided to work for him.”

“It didn’t take me long to realize it was an act, for the benefit of those who wanted him to be that way.”

“I’m glad you said that,” Gracia said. “Roy is not only a good friend of my husband’s; he is a good friend of mine.” She gave Riza an intense look. “I was very glad when Maes decided to work his magic on the two of you. He needs someone like you in his life, beyond the military. Beyond all of his plans and machinations.”

Riza nodded. “I know,” she said quietly.

Gracia changed tracks again. “What is it that you wanted to ask me about Doctor Winters?”

Riza blinked. “How–?”

“I think I picked up some of my husband’s more...inquisitive habits over the years. When I said her name, your eyes told me a lot. I know you’re seeing her. She is the one all of the...special cases go to.”

“Why did you go to her?” Riza hedged a little.

Gracia looked at her. “You know why.”

Riza nodded. “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything. Did... did that woman ask you anything about Maes’ abilities?”

“God, yes. She was curious from the beginning to the end. It’s an obsession for her, I believe.”

“And...Did anything strange happen to you...while you carried Elysia?”

Gracia shook her head. “Nothing beyond the oddest dreams. Nothing that I can remember. I don’t think Elysia has any of the abilities, anyway.”

“Do you believe that the abilities are hereditary?”

“I know Maes does.”

Riza put down the coffee cup before she dropped it. “What did you say?”

Gracia nodded. “He does. You know that all alchemists have a sphere of study that they specialize in, aside from their special ‘weapon’ as it were?”  She laughed. “His sphere is that of... conundrums. Puzzles, mysteries. Finding solutions to problems. Figuring out how things became the way they were. Like exactly what makes an alchemist...tick. And why.”

Riza should have expected that.

“That was why he sent me to Doctor Winters, actually. She expressed an interest in the same thing, so...”

“Didn’t you mind?”

“Oh, of course I did!” Gracia frowned. “He and I had many an argument about it. I didn’t appreciate being one of his... theoretical experiments. And I told him if he was thinking of the same thing with you that I would cave his head in for him.”

Riza chuckled. “You two are a match made in heaven, you know that?”

“I did from the moment I met him,” Gracia nodded. “It took him a little longer. Nefarious influences, if you catch my meaning. Anyway, then I met Doctor Winters.”  She leaned forward and took Riza’s hands in hers. “Be very careful of that woman. I don’t know why Maes doesn’t see it, but something isn’t right with her. I tried to figure it out while she cared for me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

Riza began to worry. “Do you think that my relationship... will she jeopardize–,”

“No, I don’t think so. If she exposed you, then she couldn’t... study...” and Gracia shuddered at the thought, “you anymore. And I don’t have any idea how many other women are like you under her care.”

An anger began to brew inside of Riza; one that she knew would simmer for a long time. She really didn’t appreciate being anyone’s theoretical experiment either.

By the time, Roy and Maes returned from their jaunt, Riza was fast asleep in a spare room. Through her sleep-haze, she felt her bed dip and arms circle her waist.

Before she could protest, Roy murmured. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on staying. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. That bastard, Archer. You are right–there is more to him than meets the eye.”  He cursed lightly. “I just wish I had the time to figure out what it was.”

Riza sighed and allowed the embrace for a few moments. “I just want the next three months to be over with as soon as possible.”

“I know.”  He ran his hand over her stomach and the both of them felt the baby move inside of her. It made him gasp; it was rare that he or she performed for an audience.

“Then I can figure out what I’m going to do...about all of this,” she finished.

He was silent, but she could feel him tense slightly. She knew he hadn’t thought of this, not very well in any case. With his assessment coming, he couldn’t have.

She had. Almost constantly these past weeks. There was going to come a time when she wouldn’t be able to perform her duties. For a short time, to be sure, but she knew that was when Roy would be most vulnerable. That nagging suspicion that there were things afoot that were not quite right would not leave her. The explosions. Major Archer. Kimblee. Doctor Winters. His re-assessment. Even the situation that Edward was dealing with. Somehow, she knew they would all converge and wind up in Roy’s lap. She had a sinking feeling it would all happen when she wouldn’t be able to be there to see it coming.

]o[

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose and wished that the pounding between his ears would go away. Then, he could respond to the information he’d just received with the amount of heat proportional to the way he was feeling.

Instead, all he could manage was a soft whisper. “I don’t believe you’re standing in front of me, telling me all of this two days before I’m supposed to leave for my assessment!”

“I’m sorry, Roy,” Maes said. He sat on the couch to the left of Roy’s desk. Roy couldn’t even look at him, because every time he turned his head, it felt like it was going to roll right off of his shoulders.

He’d been pressing himself too hard, preparing for the assessment. Moreover, the lack of sleep hadn’t helped. The only good thing was that he had managed to spend the past two nights with Riza. He wouldn’t have been able to make it through the next few days having to spend it alone in his own home. Now, Maes was sitting there, telling him that there had been another explosion of a cargo train, this time right near the town of Risembool. He was telling him that this cargo train, like the other, had passed through the Eastern Headquarters station inspection with the device still intact.

Enough evidence to prove that there was someone on the inspection team who had prior knowledge. That his inspection team was the epitome of carelessness.

Either way, he was responsible for them.

“After this explosion, they’re finally releasing me to come and personally question your inspection team,” Maes was telling him.

Roy looked up. “You didn’t bring that Major along, did you?” he asked sourly.

“Major Archer is currently in his office at Central, going through about three thousands of my older cases” Maes’ smile was a nasty little thing. “He’ll be occupied with learning the ropes for the next twenty years.”

Roy folded his hands on top of the file on his desk. “Why don’t you just transfer him out of your office?” he asked.

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

Maes shook his head. “Because he was transferred by one of the high brass.”  He leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Apparently, he’s a friend of General Hakuro’s, who thought he would be best suited to the field of investigation.” 

“And so he just trotted over to your offices and made himself at home?”  Roy was irritated at the way things worked in Central. The senior officers there did as they pleased, when they pleased, for whatever reasons they pleased. Here in the ass end sticks of Amestris? There was an audit every four months.

“The Fuhrer approved the transfer himself.”

Roy looked up from his mental complaining to give his friend a surprised glance. “The Fuhrer?” he exclaimed. “What the hell does the Fuhrer have to do with the appointment of a lowly Major?”

Maes shrugged. “If only I could tell you the extent of what goes on in Central...” He sighed. “But I can’t.”

“Can’t?  Or won’t?”

“Roy, if I told you, then you would know far too much!”  Maes almost exploded. “And you’re in enough hot water as it is.”

Roy sighed, wishing Riza were not in Central right this moment with that Doctor of hers. “So, are you here to personally question me?”

Maes shook his head.  “Actually, no. I was told to leave you be until after you made it through the assessment.”

“Or not.”  Roy leaned back and pushed the heavy pen back and forth on his desk. “If I don’t make it, it won’t matter what I know about the bombs on the trains. I’ll be out in any case.”

“Roy... do you think you’re going to fail?”

Roy gave the question a serious measure of thought. Then, finally, shook his head. “No. I’m still unparalleled with my talents. My current research is up to date. Everything is in place. I don’t think I’m going to fail.”  He looked up. “But I still could. It’s all up to what they decide.”

Maes cursed. “Why?”  He scrubbed at the back of his head in that manner he had when he, for once was stumped. “I can’t pinpoint a reason or rhyme to this whole thing!”

“That’s because there are too many things going on at one time. They may or may not be related.”

Maes slapped his hands on his knees and stood. “Well, I’m not going to be able to pick it all apart by sitting here, yammering on about it.”  He looked around. “Where is everyone?  I’m kind of missing Breda’s unique snore.”

Roy gestured at the clock. “Mess time. And Riza’s in Central, seeing the Doctor.”

“Ah. No wonder Gracia’s making that extra batch of sweet cakes.”

“You know that it is dangerous for those two to become such good friends?” Roy asked, arching his eyebrow.

“We’ll never get away with anything... ever again.”

“Our lives are over.”

“We need to take time to say goodbye to what little freedoms we had in proper fashion.”

“Tonight?”

“The usual place?”

“Of course.”

“You’re on.”  Maes headed toward the door. “Well, I’m off to find this lax and possibly conspiratorial inspection team.”

“Maes.”

His friend turned at the door.

“You don’t believe they’re in on some conspiracy, do you?”

Maes shook his head. “I don’t think so, but with the ways things have been going these days, you can’t tell anything.”

“Falman is actually in charge of that team, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”  Maes nodded. “That’s why I think this line of questioning is rather useless.”

Roy rubbed again at his forehead after Maes left, and finished writing the detailed instructions for Riza to follow in his absence. As if she needed instructions from him, but he had to make sure the level of professionalism between them was beyond reproach. Especially now that the Investigations Division was snooping around, asking questions.

He really couldn’t blame Maes for doing his job. He knew that his friend would do only the minimal amount of work necessary to complete the investigation. Still, it was Roy’s responsibility to make sure that Maes wouldn’t have to do any more than that. If that meant doing a few sheets of extra paperwork, then so be it.

However, it wouldn’t do for those who were watching him to realize that he knew they were watching him. He flipped through the work on his desk and decided that at least a quarter of it could wait until he returned – that due date wasn’t the real due date, for goodness sake. Everyone knew that. Into his bottom drawer those folders went.

He grinned to himself as he realized that when he did return, he would find those folders on the top of his desk, on the top of an extra high pile left him by his newly promoted Captain through his newly promoted First Lieutenant.

Jean’s reaction to the promotion was priceless. Completely unexpected for him, even though it was common practice to fill a vacant position with an officer already present in the unit. Jean was deserving of the promotion in any case. Hell, if he could have given them all a promotion at one time, he would.

The telephone rang, startling in the silence. He reached over and barked his name into the receiver with his usual brusqueness.

“Sir, it is Captain Hawkeye.”

Roy smiled at the clipped, sober way she said that. “Uh… yes, Captain?”

“I just wanted to make sure you remembered that your train is leaving the station at 2017 exactly.”

Of course, she did, he thought. “Thank you, Captain.”

“And the first part of your assessment is at 1130 tomorrow. Please don’t forget.”

“I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You would miss your train and be late for your assessment, Sir.”

All right, that was enough time. If someone were trying to listen in, he or she would be bored stiff by the regular conversation. The Captain was always calling the Colonel to remind him of important dates and time, considering that the Colonel always seemed to forget these things until the very last moment. He’d heard none of the telltale clicks that, for some reason, those tapping phone lines could not keep quiet. “Anything else?” he said, as their agreed-upon signal that they spoke through an unsecured line.

“So, tell me, do you want to know?”

It took him a moment. The question was wholly unexpected and incomplete. He had to add up all kinds of variables before he realized what she was asking. She’d been visiting Doctor Winters. She was officially seven months pregnant. What had she told him about this particular visit? Oh, yes.

His hand shook for a moment as the import of the question landed squarely in his mind. She was asking him if he wanted to know exactly what their child was going to be. How it was possible for them to tell, he had no idea, but apparently this Winters person had access to that kind of technology. Another reason to worry about the woman. She had far too much access to things that were normally not available for just anyone.

“Hello? Are you there?”

Riza’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. His answer came quick on the heels of it. “No. I’ll find out when I’m supposed to find out,” he said. It felt like cheating to know. He actually was looking forward to that rush of feeling when they would tell him whether he had a son or daughter.

She chuckled. “I knew that’s what you would say.”

“Do you know?”

“Of course. If she can tell me, then I want to be prepared.”

“Ever the practical one.”

“Good luck tomorrow, sir.”

“I’ll see you when I get back.”

In the train, he thought about the idea of knowing the sex of their child before it came into the world. Of course, Riza would have taken the advantage handed to her. It was completely within reason to expect her to want to be prepared. He briefly wondered if he could get her to tell him between now and then.

It was obscenely late when he arrived at Central. The next time, he promised he wouldn’t take that damned express. He disembarked groggily and managed to find the car waiting for him. He prayed solemnly that he wouldn’t snore on the way to the officer’s barrack; snoring usually accompanied drooling and it wouldn’t do for a subordinate to see the great Flame Alchemist in such a state.

The Quartermaster on duty saluted around a yawn and found him appropriate quarters for the night... or morning.

Roy waved away any assistance and dragged his own suitcase to his own room, and promptly proceeded to collapse across his bed in the clothes he had on his back.

One of his epaulettes had come loose in his sleep and left an ugly mark on his face the next morning. He drooled. As he looked in the mirror, he shook his head, wondering how Riza didn’t run screaming from her own house on those nights he stayed with her. He stripped, dunked his head in the washbasin and did the best he could to clean up in the borrowed quarters, glad he had left his office at 1700, per the usual, and managed to get a shower before going to the station. He managed to get his hair calmed down from its apparently frightened state and dressed in a fresh uniform.  Then he returned the room to its former pristine state and ventured out to find breakfast.

After two strong cups of tea and a reasonably freshly baked roll, he felt capable of facing the assessment board. Looking at the clock on the wall, he realized he had just enough time to get his materials and make it there.

There were two other alchemists facing assessment that day; they looked just as nervous as he felt. When they saw him, they winced. He found a spot to sit and wait and flipped open the notebook he’d brought with him, pretending a nonchalance he by no means felt. Every time he came for his assessment, he felt as if he was sixteen years old again and waiting for his first certification.

The other two made it through the first phase rather quickly, which boded well for him. When he walked into the room that he expected to be half-lit, he was surprised to find it fully flooded with light.

He looked around in a slight confusion and noticed that he was facing a board of generals. This wasn’t normal, but it explained the slight delay between his entrance and the exit of the person before him. He saluted.

“Colonel Mustang,” General Hakuro spoke, drawing his attention to that side of the table. “Your assessment will proceed in twenty minutes. However, there is a matter that we must discuss with you before then.”

He hated the sound of that. He kept his face straight while every muscle in his shoulders tightened up.

“It has come to our attention that there have been at least two bombings of cargo trains within your jurisdiction.”

He relaxed only slightly. “Yes, sir. I understand that Lieutenant Colonel Hughes is investigating the matter. He is currently at Eastern at this moment, questioning the inspection team.”

“That inspection team is under suspicion for either conspiring with the bombers or procuring and installing the incendiary device themselves.”  The General said his face impassive. “That inspection team was under the command of Warrant Officer Vato Falman, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Warrant Officer Falman is under your direct command, correct?”

A lead weight sank somewhere down near the pit of his stomach. “Yes, sir.”

General Hakuro looked toward the center of the table, where the Fuhrer sat, patiently awaiting the completion of the few terse questions.

“Colonel Mustang, I am sure that you realize that you are responsible for the behavior of the soldiers under your command,” Fuhrer Bradley said. “Our cargo trains are very valuable to this army. Without them, the necessary supplies cannot reach their locations in a timely manner. Our efficiency as a force is undermined by this.”  The man leaned forward. “Such wanton destruction of military property is a very serious offense.”

Roy held himself from a flinch. “Yes, sir. I am aware of this. However–,”

“You realize that you will be questioned in conjunction with this affair.”

“I expect nothing less, sir.”

“However, the good Lieutenant Colonel will not be performing the–questioning.”  The Fuhrer’s good eye gave a glint that sent a shaft of fear straight down to the base of Roy’s spine. “We do not doubt the Lieutenant Colonel’s integrity, you understand, but we must prevent any hint of impropriety.”

Roy nodded his head slowly.

The Fuhrer looked over at the General, who picked up the lecture again.

“When you have completed your assessment, you will be confined to quarters here at Central until your questioning is complete.”

Roy’s heart stopped. _Confined to quarters?_

“Oh, General, I don’t think such serious consequences are warranted here,” the Fuhrer suddenly said, drawing Roy’s attention. “I believe he can be confined to his own quarters in Eastern until you’ve completed your investigation of his part in this situation.”

 _Well, thanks for the small favor_ , Roy inwardly cursed. Confined was confined and dammit, he couldn’t be confined to quarters!

“Sir, may I speak?” he asked, keeping his voice steady by pure will alone.

The Fuhrer waved his hand.

“Who will be in command of my unit while I am... confined to quarters?”

“I believe that since Lieutenant Colonel Hughes has a very capable assistant holding down the fort here at Central, he will be staying there. It would be more convenient in any case, since he must question all involved soldiers from that location.”

As much as he wanted to sigh in relief, he had a strong feeling that this was not a blessing in disguise.

“I realize this is an unfortunate circumstance, but you do understand the reasoning behind this,” General Hakuro said.

_Of course I understand, you son of a bitch!_

“Yes, sir. I would expect nothing less.” _Actually, I would. A few weeks ago, this was no big deal. Suddenly, you’ve decided that this was such a serious occurrence that you have to keep me under lock and key?_

There was a good side to all of this in the end. He was so wound up by the order, he failed to be intimidated by the re-assessment and passed with excellence.

He suffered the armed guard back to Eastern in silence, and watched morosely as they disconnected his phone and withdrew to leave him sitting in his home, cut off from anyone who would have assisted him in this matter.

He took the parchment that re-confirmed his status as the Flame Alchemist, with the present rank of Colonel, in service to the Army of Amestris as a piss-poor reward, because he didn’t really know how long he would hold any of that status, and whether the confirmation was even worth the damned paper it was written on.

He almost set the fucking thing aflame, even had his glove on and was poised over it, when he stopped himself. Such a display would solve nothing, and with the way his own temper was flaring, he might actually set the whole place on fire.

That would be the epitome of embarrassment, to burn his own damned home down around his ears. He wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of knowing how much he felt the loss of his freedom – even if he was confined to his own home. He barked a harsh and bitter laugh and retired to wait the outcome of this sorry state of affairs.

Then the door opened again and his guards were back… to take away his ignition gloves.


	37. What It's Like to be the Bad Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the man behind the ice blue eyes; and learn how Riza reacts to Roy's confinement.

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 35: What It’s Like to be the Bad Man**

**Rating: T**

**_Soundtrack: Behind Blue Eyes – the Who_ **

 

His boot heels clicked as he walked down the immaculate hallways of the classified wing of Central Headquarters.  He liked the sound; crisp, clean, just the way he liked all things involving himself. Crisp, clean, unsullied. Perfect.

He walked through what was, to the outside world, called a sanitarium. Created to house damaged soldiers during the many battles fought in the name of the Fuhrer, he called it a madhouse. Truthfully, soldiers still occupied some of the rooms in these whitewashed, white-tiled hallways, some soldiers beyond repair, and some soldiers who needed a place in which to forget all they had done in the past seven years. Most of the soldiers who were still here had been part of the Eastern Rebellion, like himself.

He’d made it through that police action intact. He held that fact up with pride, and used it to push his way to the rank that he’d reached thus far. Moreover, he would use it to reach even higher.

There were other facilities in this wing, quiet but for the weak cries of even weaker so-called men. There were medical facilities that participated in procedures and treatments of an experimental nature, so much so that received the intimidating label classified. Unless you needed to see Doctor Winters, you never knew that they were here.

That fatherless child, Colonel Roy Mustang, should have been in one of those rooms. Archer had reviewed the man’s dossier, had gone through it letter by letter. The man would have been amazed what the Division of Investigations included inside that supposed private catalog of the man’s life. Archer assumed that Mustang’s lickspittle friend had included it all to show what an extraordinary person the Colonel was, in order to help him pull himself up from genteel poverty.

To have come the back of beyond to be a Certified State Alchemist for the first time at the age of sixteen (actually, to put a fine point on it, fifteen years and seven months) was amazing enough. Before that other bastard Edward Elric, Mustang had been the youngest to hold that title in history. All because he spent his day playing with whip-poor-wills, diddled with insubstantial air.

His dossier contained some remarkable facts, like the fact that, instead of sitting on his laurels and taking the rank of Major without actual work, he entered the academy when he could. It was rumored (and if the copies of entrance examinations were real, fact) that the boy would have made it into the academy on his brains alone, because apparently there was something behind those malingering eyes. Those eyes that gave Archer a lingering suspicion that the brat-Colonel was not wholly of Amestris.

At the age of twenty-three, Mustang went as ordered to front lines during the Eastern Rebellion as one of those precious special weapons that the Fuhrer couldn’t do without. After that, up to his wrists in bloodshed, battle stress had been the diagnosis and two months of leave had been the treatment.

He should have been locked behind these walls and left to rot. However, because of that much-vaunted title, State Alchemist Roy Mustang got a promotion and allowed to go his own way. While his contemporaries worked, and bled and suffered their way to the ranks that they held, that man skated through, all through his ability to spark a flame with a snap of his fingers. He gathered up his own personal group of toadies and skated through the ranks as if his boot soles were made of butter. Among those boot-lickers was the singularly presumptuous, sorry excuse for a soldier that Archer had laid his eyes on.

A woman.

Women in the military; another thing that set Archer’s teeth on edge. However, he allowed that there was a place for women in any army: every single force throughout history had its camp followers, nurses, whores, whatever one wanted to call them, gathered to elevate the morale, to provide healing and succor for those men, in any way they possibly could. Nevertheless, for women to wield weapons and presume to fight like men was a perversion of the natural order of things. It was something else that would have to change.

For a woman, weak by nature and design, to have such a legendary reputation as First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was more than Archer could stand. All because she was known as the shield and right hand of a State Alchemist.

State Alchemist. The high brass put much of their hopes on these... people. Far too much, in Archer’s mind. Though held above the ordinary soldiers as the pampered princes of a military tyranny, their abilities sullied the reputation of the Amestris Army, had made people fear them, and think of them as oppressors.

Many other things would have to change. Archer thought that the days of the State Alchemist were far overdue to end. That was one of the reasons he strode toward the offices of Doctor Aliah Winters. He had a situation to discuss with her. Something that would put him in the position to be able to push those changes through.

Winters was one of those women who knew her place in the scheme of things; she was both healer and whore. She never argued with him when he called her those things, therefore he gave her much more latitude than he would give any other woman who presumed that she was just as qualified as he to serve the Fuhrer was.

She also behaved with the proper amount of servility when he decided he wanted to fuck her over the metal equipment table in her examination room.

Which he always did before he did anything else, before he discussed the file he’d come to discuss, before he allowed her to amuse him with her display of extraordinary intelligence. It was an easy thing; he locked the door and gave her a single look. She lowered her eyes and removed her jacket, silent and servile, as she should be.

This time, he’d been annoyed with recent events, so it took him longer to reach his satisfaction. There was no protest from her, however. She still made those wonderful little sounds in the back of her throat while he grabbed her shoulder and pounded into her from behind, still moaned low when he crushed her breasts between his hands. Still asked for more when he sank his teeth into her neck. Still arched and fit against him perfectly when he came.

It was only after he released himself into her that he allowed her to resume her role as an accomplished medical professional. He enjoyed watching her cover that smooth, pale skin with her modest skirt and blouse and white medical jacket, knowing exactly where each bruise and red mark he’d left would develop, and how she would leave them untreated until they faded, until he returned to do it again.

When she was ready, he leaned against the examination table and asked her a simple question. He expected nothing less than acquiescence.

He was surprised; therefore, when she told him in her clean voice, “I cannot do that. That file is classified.”

“No file is classified to a member of the Investigations Division.”

“Classified not only through client-patient confidentiality, but classified by direct order of the Fuhrer.”

Then she showed him the actual order, written, signed and sealed with Bradley’s own hand. Now he added another reason that the ascendancy of the State Alchemist had to come to a sudden and swift end.

He read that, no matter the circumstance, any patient treated by Doctor Winters for a pregnancy that resulted from intimate contact with a State Alchemist, was inviolate. Untouchable. Unimpeachable, should the circumstances warrant it. Above the law. Fuhrer King Bradley didn’t give a reason for this exception to years of military regulation, just produced the order and left it up to those beneath him to see it carried out.

Major Frank Archer left that office a very unhappy, but determined man. These perversions had to stop their upward climb. This corruption of the way things should be was of a level he could barely comprehend.

Not only was the bitch defying her very nature by presuming to wield her little weapons and fight alongside her betters, but she was given free rein to comport herself in an entirely disgusting manner with her superior officer, merely because that superior officer was a precious State Alchemist. A master weapon of the great Army of Amestris.

When he became Fuhrer, the only master weapons of the great Army would be men– _and only men_ –like himself, who fought with sweat and blood, and gave everything to reach the status they had attended.

Then… he would take that little assumptive bitch that flaunted her perversion for the whole world to see, bend her over the big marble desk of the Fuhrer and fuck her until she realized what her place really was.

]o[

Riza woke the next morning to the smell of a wonderful breakfast. It was then she remembered that she was at the Hughes residence. Her stomach rumbled then, and the baby chose that second to announce its need for sustenance. She swung her legs from the bed and began to dress in the spare uniform Gracia had thoughtfully provided. She didn’t even bother asking from where she got it; this was Maes’ wife after all. She would go back by express train and try to look in on the office on her way home. She was sure it was in utter chaos by now.

As she slipped on the sensible shoes that went with her new uniform, she heard the phone ring, and smiled. The only person who would call this house at this hour would be the man of said house, checking on his wife and daughter. Half of her hoped that Roy would be such a father and half of her wondered if she’d finally lost the battle with her hormones and had completely gone spare even thinking of such a thing. Roy would probably faint the first time he had to change a dirty nappy, and then try to set the thing on fire to remove it from his offended presence.

As she came down the stairs, chuckling at the vision that evoked, she could hear a bit of the conversation between Maes and Gracia. She frowned, wondering why Gracia was speaking so loudly.

“Maes, you can’t be serious!” her friend said, looking over her shoulder and waving at Riza to come closer to the phone. “Why would they do such a thing?” 

Riza came close, wondering what happened. Gracia didn’t look like her usual tolerantly happy self.

“But, _he didn’t do anything_! He can’t watch all of his staff at the same time!”

Riza frowned, now worried. What was Gracia talking about?

“Well, I realize that he’s the commanding officer, but...” she paused. “House arrest?” Gracia put a hand over her mouth and looked at Riza, her eyes wide. “Yes. Yes, she’s right here.  O-of course...”  Gracia handed her the phone, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Hughes?” Riza said. “What is going on? Why is Gracia so upset? What is this about house arrest?”

“It’s not a good situation here,” Hughes said, his voice slightly stilted. He sounded like he wanted to say more, but couldn’t.

Riza decided that a couple of clarifying questions were in order. “Are you still at Eastern, Hughes?” she started.

“Yes. That’s right.”

“And is Roy there? In the office?”

“Um… that would be a negative.”

“Who is in the office right now?”

Hughes’ voice suddenly took on the sound of false joviality. “Man, I tell you it’s been busy here! Between this investigation and the arrival of General Hakuro... what?”

“What is General Hakuro doing there?” Riza asked, suddenly feeling hot, then cold.

“Of course, once the interrogation is over, I’m sure the Colonel will be able to answer any questions you may have.” Hughes said smoothly. “He’s currently... ah... unable to perform his duties.”

“What?” Riza exclaimed. “Is he hurt? What happened? Hughes, did he fail the assessment?”

She suddenly heard Maes sigh with relief. “Damn, I thought he would never leave... and of course I had to make sure the line was secure,” Hughes voice was suddenly serious. “Riza, I need to make this quick. I don’t know when the General is going to return.”

Riza sat down in the chair Gracia provided. “Tell me.”

“Roy is under house arrest. Confined to quarters until General Hakuro gets around to questioning him in relation to the train explosion and the library fire.”

Riza was speechless. “Confined to quarters? That isn’t good, Maes.”

“No it isn’t. You need to get back here as soon as possible.”

“Are those the only subjects in which Hakuro are interested?”

“Yes,” Maes answered. “The case of the thefts has been closed by Grumman.”

“Is everyone to be questioned by Hakuro and his men?”

“Apparently, they think I can handle questioning the staff. However, they think because Roy and I are friends I would not make an impartial interrogator.”

“Interrogation... that sounds so ominous.”

“It is. They call it--,” Maes’ voice suddenly switched again to a light, no nonsense tone. “Ah, yes, Captain, so you _can_ take the express train back?  Good. We’ll see you then at--,” there was a pause. “1500 hours? Very good. Okay, thank you, Captain.”

The phone went dead in Riza’s hand. She placed the phone back in the cradle, her hand trembling.

She felt Gracia’s hand on her shoulder but didn’t register the sensation. “Riza? Are you all right?”

She turned slowly and looked at her friend. “They can’t lock him up like that for very much longer,” she whispered. “He’ll start to... think on things he shouldn’t be thinking on.”

Gracia put her hand over her mouth, knowing what Riza meant. “Oh, dear.”

Riza scrambled as fast as her growing bulk would allow her out of the chair. “I have to catch the express train back. Hughes is expecting me at 1500.”

“I’ll call a driver.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS always, thanks for reading. Reviews are greatly appreciated.


	38. Let it Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She turned and looked at him. “What? What am I looking at? Someone who is wallowing in self-pity?”

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 36: Let it Shine**

**Rating: T**

**_Soundtrack: I Will Never Let You Down – Rita Ora_ **

 

She entered an office heavy with an oppressive silence. Save for the low murmurings of Hughes on the telephone, the others were keeping their own counsel and not offering a thing in the way of incriminating evidence to the other men in the room.

Riza saluted General Hakuro, who greeted her with a kind smile. She didn’t buy it for one instant.

“Captain, you are currently the ranking member of the staff here. I’m going to leave you here while the Lieutenant Colonel and I meet the inspections team and begin our questioning.”

She said through gritted teeth, “Yes, sir,” knowing that Hakuro was removing any chance for her to find out any information on the Colonel.

“I’m counting on you to maintain the status quo while the Colonel is unavailable. This is one of those instances where your performance will reflect on your future career.”

It took everything for Riza not to let her lip curl. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

As soon as the door shut, Riza collapsed at her own desk. “Okay, tell me,” she asked the others at large.

Jean took the lead in answering. “Hughes got a phone call yesterday afternoon, telling him that the Colonel was being confined to quarters,” he said. “We’ve been questioned all morning as to our whereabouts during each of the bombings before and after.”

“We were also questioned about the Colonel’s whereabouts during that time,” Breda told her.

Riza pinched the bridge of her nose. “They really believe he was involved somehow?” she asked, incredulous. “The Colonel doesn’t need bombs to do his dirty work. If he wanted to explode a train or set fire to a library, he wouldn’t use a bomb.”

Jean snorted bitterly. “It wouldn’t be in keeping with his reputation as the great Flame Alchemist. Thank goodness it was Hughes doing the questioning. He knew exactly what to ask.” Havoc gave her a direct gaze as he said this.

Riza nodded slowly. “Are they planning on questioning me?”

Breda laughed this time. “This is the funny thing. It seems that, every time a train was bombed, you weren’t here. There is evidence to show you at Central, for those visits of yours. At least that’s what Hughes said.”

She gave a bitter smile. “So I’m clear.”

Havoc nodded. “As are we all. The only person they haven’t questioned yet is Mustang.” He shrugged and leaned against the Colonel’s desk. “I don’t know what they’re waiting for. They could have questioned him about fifty times by now.”

“They’re compiling evidence, Havoc,” Riza told him. “General Hakuro can’t just go in and question him like Hughes questioned us. His responsibility is much greater, so they have to be sure that they have their evidence clear.”

“But, what evidence could they have?” Fuery wanted to know. “He’s here. Every day. There are plenty of people to say that.”

“Telephone records.” Jean said, teeth clenched around the cigarette. “Courier packages.” He looked over at Riza again. “Driver’s records.”

Riza sighed explosively. “What are you trying to say, Jean?” she asked. “Just spit it out.”

“Well, Captain, if I could do that I would.”

She tried to erase the picture of the Colonel sitting in his small home, in the dark, getting more and more claustrophobic by the minute. “I’m so tired,” she finally said quietly, leaning back and rubbing at the back of her neck. “All of this...tell them, Jean. Just...tell them. It’ll be easier for us to deal with all of this if they know.”

“Are you sure?”

“They’ve been questioned and cleared. There’s nothing for them to hide anymore.”

Jean took a deep breath, walked over to Riza and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Normally, she would be shocked by the familiarity. Right now, she was just tired. He started speaking. Riza didn’t really need to hear the words, because they were imprinted in her brain from the moment all of this started.

The most interesting response she got was a small nod from, of all people, Fuery. “What, Fuery?” she asked quietly.

“I knew it,” he said simply. “Ever since we went after Kimblee.”

Riza smiled and shook her head. It was always the quiet ones you had to watch.

“But...” Breda blurted. “Why didn’t you just tell us?”

“If she did,” Fuery answered quickly, “then how could we have answered honestly when they were making Hughes ask all those stupid questions about preferential treatment?”

Riza sat forward. “What?”

“They – General Hakuro, that is – made Hughes ask us if we noticed the Colonel giving anyone preferential treatment,” Jean answered. “I don’t know whether they had anyone in mind when they asked.”

Riza gave this some thought for a while. Then she shook her head. “No, I don’t think they do either. He hasn’t given anyone in this office preferential treatment. Unless they were referring to the promotion.”

The door suddenly banged open. They all looked over to see Edward storming in, Alphonse hot on his heels.

“What is this about the Colonel under arrest?” the young man asked, his face stormy.

“He’s under house arrest, Edward,” Jean told him. “They want to know if he has anything to do with the explosions or the library fire.”

“What?” Edward yelled.

“Ah, Fullmetal!” Hughes called from behind Edward. Alphonse took a quick step to the left to allow the man into the room. He moved up to the young man, leaned down into his furious face. “You’re finally here! I have a few questions–,”

“Stuff your questions!” Edward yelled. “Why is the Colonel under lockdown?”

Hughes waved a hand, trying for his usual carefree attitude. “Oh, it’s just until the questioning is over. Speaking of which–,”

“I’m gonna see–,”

“Ah, no, Edward, you’re not.” Hughes suddenly said, his voice solemn. “No one who hasn’t been cleared–, “and he met Riza’s eye over Edward’s head. “ Can see him. The security officers have just been given a list.”

“But–,” Alphonse said. “The Colonel wouldn’t blow up a train!”

“Huh,” Edward snorted. “The Colonel is too lazy to try to blow up a damned train!” The young man collapsed into the couch and sat there, mutinous.

Hughes sat on the couch next to him, nodding. “That’s what I tried to tell them, but it didn’t work.”

Everyone jumped about a foot when the phone rang. Instinctively, Riza picked it up. “Colonel Mustang’s office,” she said, a bit defiantly.

There was a stone cold silence on the other end. Then a voice, perhaps rusty from a couple days of misuse, crossed the line and made her knees weak. “Captain?”

He’d been yelling, she immediately thought. He was... or had been... furious.

“Ah...yes, sir?”

The silence again, then. “Put Maes on the phone.”

Riza blinked. Then, helplessly, she handed the phone over. “It’s...”

Hughes leapt up and snatched the phone from her. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, who is this?”

Riza watched him carry on the conversation. After a moment of muttering, “Uh-huh. Yes,” he went to the other side of the Colonel’s desk, yanked open the top drawer and started rifling through it. “I know, I know. How much longer do you have? Damn... I can’t... don’t you ever clean this damned thing?” He shuffled through scraps of paper and about a metric ton of paperclips and other filched office supplies. Riza watched, the only thing coming to mind was _so, that’s where all the staples went._

“Ah-ha!” Hughes suddenly exclaimed and held up a well-worn notebook with a tattered leather cover. “I found it.” He nodded, even though he knew the Colonel couldn’t see him. “I got... yes, I got it. Yes, you can have it. I’ll have it sent...” Hughes’ voice subsided for a moment and his eyes swung in Riza’s direction. “Um... yeah. I think can do that.”

Riza actually felt herself holding her breath until he got off the phone.

He looked over at her. “He wants this notebook,” he said. “Something about having nothing else to do and wanting to research.”

Riza nodded. “He does that when he bored. To... chase away...” she stopped.

Hughes nodded. “They’re not allowed to impede his studies in any way, you know,” he said. “If he wanted half the library shipped to him, they would have to do it. State Alchemists...” He tried to laugh, “They have all the luck.”

“So...you’ll take him the book?”

“Nope.” Hughes shook his head. “Remember that list I mentioned? Of his approved visitors. I’m not on it. They had a choice between you or me. You won.” He held up a hand. “Supervised visits only, of course. Only for about a half-hour. But... it’s something.”

Something about that hit Riza all wrong. “Supervised? What do they mean supervised?”

Hughes blinked rapidly. He must have been familiar with that particularly wild look about her eyes, because he backed up slowly. “It’s-It’s just a precaution, you understand. Until his questioning.”

Riza reached out and took the book from his hand. “We’ll see about that.” She turned her head and pinned Havoc with her gaze. “Call my driver.”

Her record was beyond reproach. _Beyond reproach_. She’d been cleared of all suspicion. So, what did they (and by _they,_ she knew Hughes spoke of General Hakuro and all those attached to him) mean by saying _supervised visits only_?

When Dennison pulled up to the house, the two security personnel posted there moved up to the car. One look at her, and they moved back and saluted. Dennison opened the door and helped her out of the car. She ran her hands down her shirt, tugging at the hem to make sure it was straight, and then moved over to them.

“I’m delivering something to Colonel Mustang,” she told them by way of explanation and moved to step between them.

One of the young men nervously halted her. “Ah... sir, I have to take a look at that.”

She pursed her lips, but handed it over nonetheless. She wouldn’t begrudge them their duties, after all.

They flipped open the book and shook it, ostensibly to insure nothing was hidden inside. Then one of them tried to read what was inside. She could tell by the cross-eyed, confused look that he had absolutely no idea what all of the codes and sketches meant, let alone what the un-coded words were. Roy’s handwriting was more infamous than his lollygagging skills. They handed it back.

She moved again to go between them and up to the door. She stood there for a moment, waiting, and then turned back to them. “Is someone going to open this?” she asked coolly.

Both young men – sergeants from the look of them – started. “S-Sorry, sir. We thought–,”

“You thought that I would have a key perhaps?” She let a dangerous tone creep into her voice. “Don’t be ridiculous. Open this door, officer.”

At least they had the good grace to look guilty at their implication. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

The door opened, and she was almost blinded by the wave of darkness from inside that almost took over. She blinked and took a step over the threshold, but a voice stopped her. _That voice_ , harsh and hoarse.

“Who the hell is that?”

When she stopped the sergeant behind her bumped into her, then backed up apologizing profusely. “I’m sorry, sir. But, I’m going to have to search you.”

Again, she turned to look at the boy from over her shoulder. Then she rolled her eyes and turned, holding up her hands.

They took great pains not to actually touch her in the search progress. She could have secreted enough explosives to blow up the town on her person and they would not have found it, considering. When they were satisfied, they nodded and held out a hand for her to proceed.

“Wait!” One of them suddenly said. “We’re going to have to confiscate your sidearm as well.”

Okay, that was just about enough of this nonsense. She turned completely in the doorway and stood there with her hands on her hips. “What?” she barked.

“Sir, your... your sidearm, sir. We have to take it.”

Her eyes narrowed, even as the other sergeant elbowed his companion. “That’s Captain Hawkeye, idiot!” he hissed. “You _don’t_ take her sidearm! Not even the Fuhrer would take her sidearm!”

“Now, why would you want to take my sidearm...” she looked at the young man’s shoulder. “Sergeant?” It was one of the few times in her career that she fully intended to pull rank. Right now, she felt very good about doing it. “If I wanted to shoot you, I would have already.”

“Yes, but, s-sir...”

She felt his presence at her back. He wasn’t even close enough to touch, but she felt him there, close to the doorway, watching. “And, if he wanted to use a weapon, he doesn’t need a gun,” she continued, moving step-by-step closer to the boy. “He could incinerate all of this–,” she held up her hand, right under the sergeant’s nose, “with just a snap” and she did just that, quite enjoying the fact that the young man looked as if he might wet himself, “of his fingers.”

He opened his mouth, to protest once more. “But he doesn’t have --,”

His friend groaned and put a hand over his face.

“Let me tell you something, Sergeant.” Riza interrupted, making it right up to his face. “I have been protecting this man since before you even contemplated joining this service.” She looked him up and down. “From the looks of it, before the day you were born. “ In addition, I will continue to do so until I am relieved of duty. Now, you will not confiscate anything on my person, and I will not require your supervision during this visit.” She leaned back a little. “Now, I understand that you are only following orders, from someone a little higher up than me, but I assure you, if you persist, I will make a note of the disrespect you showed by presuming to search my person.”

The young Sergeant’s mouth worked for a moment, and then he subsided.

She gazed into his face, remembering all the times her drill instructor had done the same. After she noted that he conceded defeat, due to her superior rank, she nodded, and backed up.

“I apologize for that, young man, but you have to understand that I find this entire thing absurd,” she allowed in a no-nonsense voice. She turned back toward the door.

“Uh, sir–?” This time it was the other one. She acknowledged him. “We think it’s absurd too.”

She gave him a small smile and turned toward the door. And faced him.

He braced himself in the doorway, watching it all. His face was impassive, but she could see the minute sparkle of amusement there. She fought a blush down her neck, remembering that he had never seen her actually use her new rank for something more than shoulder ornamentation. She stepped past him into the darkened room, and listened while he shut the door behind him.

She could barely see through the half-curtained windows. “Goodness, Colonel, could you at least remember to turn on a light once in a while?” she said, busying herself with that, hands shaking, suddenly nervous, finally tired of all of the drama that had surrounded her for the past few months. From the minute that she had heard the news, she’d been working things out in her head and had come to a conclusion. While she had the chance–and the nerve–, she was going to tell him about it. “Do you have eyes like a bat that you can see in the dark? How are you researching like this?”

She stopped because he came up behind her and put his hands on her arms. “Don’t worry, Riza,” he said softly. “I won’t be here long. I promise.”

She turned to him and gave him a sorry excuse for a smile. “Long? Oh, I know you won’t. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Yes, I have. And you know it.”

She looked away. “But, this isn’t about that.”

“You don’t think so?” He laughed bitterly and she watched him push his hair from his face. “I’m sure General Hakuro knows something. “ He said something to me when he first got here. Something about ‘having all my improprieties in order’, because he was going to find them all out.”

Riza’s hand trembled on the switch on the oil lamp. She turned it up, casting light on the room.

It looked like the room of a teenaged boy. From the looks of things, he’d spent most of the day in or around his bed. _And he’d tried to cook as well, from the look of the disaster on the plate at her feet._ “Don’t they realize you can’t cook?” She bent down and pick up the plate and a few sheets of paper, anything to keep her hands busy. “They could have sent you some food, at the very least.”

“I didn’t want them to bring me anything.”

She looked over at him, ran her eyes briefly over his disheveled form. “Did you think to ask for some soap, at the very least?”

“Damn it, Riza, look at me!”

She turned and looked at him. “What? What am I looking at? Someone who is wallowing in self-pity?”

He reared back, not expecting that attack. Well, good. She knew him. Knew him like she knew her own self. He’d been sitting here for the past eighteen hours, feeling sorry for his state, panicking, starting at every shadow.

Remembering. She saw that too, in the back of his eyes.

They shouldn’t have locked him up for so long. With nothing to do, nothing to occupy him but his current state, his mind would start to roam back through memories better left behind.

She had to shock those memories back where they belonged.

“Don’t tell me you’ve just been sitting here, floundering,” she said, slamming the plate on a table. “You haven’t even considered a plan of attack, have you?”

“What? What kind of plan of attack?”

“What are you going to answer when they ask those questions? You going to have all of those improprieties in order?” She pulled the chair out and sat down. Her feet were starting to ache, which did not compliment her temper at all. “You’re just going to fold and tell them whatever they want to hear, plus some things they can only guess at?”

“Riza... I’m tired.” He plopped on the edge on the bed and dropped his head into his hands. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking over my shoulder?”

She looked at him, amazed. “Of course I know, Roy. Are you blind? I’ve been standing right there every time you looked back.”

He stared. Frankly stared. Then looked back down at his feet. “Yes you have. You still are. And now I’ve ruined all of that, haven’t I? I’ve ruined everything.”

She stood and exclaimed, “How?”

He looked at her mid-section for an eternity. “We shouldn’t have done this,” Roy finally said, looking away.

She crossed her arms. “You think? Perhaps you’re right. Do you have regrets? I don’t. Not anymore.”

Roy looked at her, realization clouding his eyes. “How is it that I deserve you? I’m not that worthy.”

“No, you’re not,” she said simply. “You’re lazy, shiftless, and I’m surprised you can remember how to put your boots on the right feet. You have the intelligence of a prodigy, the machinating skills of master, but the common sense of a goat. Half the time, you don’t know when to say the first thing that comes to mind and when to keep your mouth shut. The other half of the time, you amaze us all with your brilliance. It’s nerve-wracking.” She shrugged. “I could have been serving under anyone else. Someone more... simple minded.” She stepped closer to him. “But I’m not. I’m here, in this dingy room. With you.”

He shook his head, scratched at the growth of beard on his face. “You really are devoted to me,” he said, as if it had just occurred to him. As if some she’d passed some test in his mind, and that he was surprised by that outcome.

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re _just_ realizing that I’m devoted to you?” Riza shook her head. “I can’t believe you.” She leaned in; until she was sure he was looking her in the eye. “I gave up all of my ambitions the day I met you. _All of them._ I was that little girl who spent all day planning her wedding to some simple man, and then I met you. “I remember the day I put my diary away. I remember it well, because I knew I would never look at it again.”

She knelt then, because bending like that was torture on her back. “And then, I took all of my reservations and told them to kiss my ass when I decided to give you a key to my house.” She took his chin in her hand, because he was trying to turn his head away, to look anywhere but at the truth in his face. “And if that weren’t enough, I decided to change everything I was when I decided to carry this baby that you helped create.” She let him go and sat back, her arms crossed over her chest. “So don’t sit there and tell me that you’re just realizing how dedicated I am to you.”

“I just don’t want... I don’t want you to go down with me,” Roy whispered.

“Don’t you get it yet, Roy?” Riza hissed, at the end of her patience. “I don’t care what they do to me anymore. They can demote me, transfer me, court-martial me, and dishonorably discharge me. I will always have your back. Why? Because of all the things I mentioned before.” She leaned back. “You don’t know how to be anyone else but yourself. Even if that makes you look like a prime idiot. But,” she repeated. “I will always have _your_ back. If things go bad, I just won’t be able to do it from the inside. But, I’ll find another way to do it.” She sighed, and said softly. “I can protect you both...and I will.”

Roy tilted his head. “Both?”

She gave him a slow smile, reached out and took his hand, pulled it to her stomach. “Both.”

She could see him trying not to smile even in the half-light. She nodded; he would be all right. “Now. I suggest you get up, sir, and wash the stench off of your ass, put on some clean clothing and sit here and wait for them to come to you.” She leaned forward again, this time in prelude to something she knew he needed. “Let them see when they get here that you don’t give a fuck that they think they have you locked up, because you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

She finished with a soft kiss on his lips. And a smack to the side of his head. “Now, hurry up and get out of here. Think you can manage that before I actually go into labor? ”

He gave her that infamous narrow-eyed gaze. “You challenging me, Captain?”

“Of course, Colonel. Someone has to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I really concrit, so don't hesitate and leave it in my box. Also check out [my tumblr](http://www.crackalchemist.tumblr.com/) for updates and what have you!


	39. A Brother of Sorts in Torquemada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakuro thinks he can intimidate Roy. Apparently, Hakuro has never met Roy.

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 37: A Brother of Sorts in Torquemada**

**Rating: T**

**_Soundtrack: Detonation Blvd – Sisters of Mercy_ **

 

They brought his phone back the next day. Roy tried not to laugh as it took two armed guards to re-install it. His mouth gave a wicked twist as they explained that since his staff was cleared of all suspicions, there was no real reason to cut off his contact with the outside world any further.

He knew the real reason they returned his phone. He could picture her challenging the good General about the necessity.

He’d done what she’d suggested, chuckling to himself as he went over their conversation. Common sense of a goat. Only Riza would have said such a thing, and meant every word with every breath in her. She probably was right, under most circumstances.

He truly wasn’t worthy of a woman like her. Though he would be careful never to say so in front her. She might agree with him again, and he wasn’t in the mood to have his faults listed in such a relentless manner again.

He put on clean clothes, grimacing when he ran his hand over the few days’ worth of stubble on his chin. They had actually taken his razor on the day they’d taken his phone. As if he’d do something dangerous with it to himself or others. He shuddered at the thought. He would never use something as barbaric as a razor to commit suicide. There really was no guarantee that a blow would be fatal, and it would have been entirely too messy by far. And painful. If he really wanted to do himself in, it would be with a gun. Short, simple and to the point, no pain. Just done and done.

Then again, and he chuckled at the irony of it, the option of suicide was completely cut off to him now. However, they–those who put him here and were so afraid he’d off himself before divulging all of his nefarious secrets–had no way of knowing that. He had responsibilities, to home and country. Leaving her alone with such a burden... it was unthinkable. To leave this country in the hands of obvious incompetents? Not a chance. Definitely not a chance.

He subsided in one of the chairs he hadn’t broken and flipped open the notebook she’d brought him. One of his oldest alchemy notebooks, he kept it with him always as a kind of lucky charm. He looked his own scrawl and frowned. If someone put a gun to head, it would still take him forever to decipher most of it. In the early days, he wrote his notes like a freight train, not thinking of the fact that he would have to read it all later. He did recognize the coding, could make out a few of the names there, and the numbers that corresponded. Anyone trying to take a peek would have rolled their eyes and tossed it back where they’d gotten it.

It looked, to the outside world, like a book of his conquests. Their names and phone numbers, and attributes that he wanted to remember. _Olivia Gennan- 8159999. Measurements - 36, 18, 29. Lifted me up and turned me into liquid. Definitely worth keeping._

He laughed at himself, at his former belief that he was so clever to use such a code. He flipped a few more pages and stopped, his face sobering slightly. Hughes had picked on him about this entry. Because, if anyone knew anything about anything, they would know that there was no gas, noble or not, that corresponded by the letter L. In fact, anyone with eyes to see would have figured it out, given a good opportunity.

If Riza ever, ever looked in this book, she probably would kill him for what he’d written there. Yet, this was before, before everything had passed between them.

_Lisa Falcon - 3694021. Measurements - 34, 18, 34. Highly reactive; flammable. When used with caution its stabilizing features very effective._

She would demand to know how he knew that way back then. He would shrug and pray she didn’t compel him to answer.

_We are matching spark and flame. She can leave when I’m cold and dead and in the ground._

He flipped some more, read some more entries, laughed at himself. Examined the arrays he’d created back then. Gazed forever at the array he discovered when he was only seventeen and was the one that he still used to this very day.

They had taken away every ignition glove they could find in his house. Now, that was beyond insulting and what had caused his black mood to last for three whole days. The two soldiers outside who had suffered the wrath of Captain Hawkeye told him what happened when she found out about that. He laughed for a good twenty minutes, and expected the arrival of his purloined possessions within the next few days.

It was only after he’d read the same sentence four times that he realized that reading his notes was not going to work as a way to distract him for very long. Boredom had him by the short hairs and he didn’t see it letting him go any time soon.

Just before he thought he would die of inertia, his door opened. He looked up at the person in the doorway. Light shone from behind him, so he couldn’t see the face, but he knew without a doubt who it was.

And to think, there was one time that he thought General Hakuro to be a fine stand-up kind of officer.

“Finally gathered up all the evidence you need, General?” he said with a sour smirk.

General Hakuro entered and shut the door behind him. He squinted into the half-light of the room. Roy didn’t bother rising to salute, nor did he care about turning up the lamp. It wasn’t his job to make the General comfortable. He had to answer questions, and that was all he had to do.

After waiting for both for a moment, the General moved further into the room and sat at the table. “I was not gathering evidence, Mustang,” he said emotionlessly. “I was busy questioning two men we captured in connection to the explosions.” He traced a pattern on the table with his finger. “Interesting, the things they had to say.”

Nice start. Meant to intimidate a lesser man. “I’m sure you’re about to amaze me with all the details,” Roy said.

“Well, I’m sure you’d find them interesting as well.” He tried to pin Roy with a piercing glare. It bounced right off of Roy without the slightest bit of effect.

He leaned back and folded his hands across his midsection. “Please, continue. I’m all ears.”

Hakuro held his pose. “These two men, they were not from Amestris. They came from the east.”

Roy blinked. “Ishbal?” he asked. Ishbalians, looking for revenge. That would make sense. Nevertheless, how would he have anything to do with that?

Hakuro shook his head. “Further east. Across the desert.”

Interesting shot. Roy would be damned if he’d let Hakuro see how that affected him. “I’m sorry. I’m not following you,” he lied.

“Oh, I think you are. I think you followed me all the way across that map in your head. You know exactly where I’m talking about.”

“General,” Roy sighed, pretending a boredom that he suddenly didn’t feel. “Just get to the point. Where were these men from and what did they want?”

Hakuro hesitated further. “Remember that I told you to make sure you had your improprieties in order?”

“Ah, yes, my improprieties. What could those be?” Roy leaned forward as well. “I hear it on good authority that I’m lazy. Is that what you mean? Or the fact that my procrastination skills are second only to my alchemy skill. That good? Oh, yes, then there is the fact that I have the–how was it put–the common sense of a goat.” He gave the man a look of false eagerness. “Is that what you’re talking about?”

“There is more than that, Mustang, and you know it.” Hakuro’s eyes narrowed. “You are involved in things that could cause you a great deal of trouble, young man.”

“I am?” Now Roy was all innocence. “Well, that is something I didn’t know. Pray tell please enlighten me. What is it that I’m involved in that could cause me so much trouble? Blowing up trains is a serious offense I am sure. However, I don’t think that’s what we’re talking about here. Really I don’t.”

He could tell that Hakuro was itching to get into this. However, for some reason, the man sidestepped it. “We’ll get into that another time.”

“Ah. I see. You mean when you’ve gathered enough of that evidence to prove your case.” Roy tilted his head. “Who’s gathering that information for you, I wonder? Is it the new Major you placed in the Lieutenant Colonel’s office? Rather... inquisitive man is Archer.” He leaned back and crossed his legs. “I hope the man is as thorough as he claims to be.”

Hakuro cleared his throat and loosed his next verbal projectile. “The two men were from Xing.” He gave Roy a look that dared him to react. “That place holds some kind of importance in your life, doesn’t it?”

Roy’s eyebrow twitched. He would have thought the word would generate some kind of anger, something. It just fell flat on his ears and left him with a dull ache in his stomach, and a bit of surprise that Hakuro had done some good research into his life. “Really? And why should that be so significant to me?”

“You know why, Colonel Mustang!” General Hakuro pounded the table. “Stop playing innocent with me! You forget I have seen your file. I know everything that’s in it. And I know a few things that are not.”

Not by half, you don’t, Roy thought. He was really going to enjoy the conversation he planned to have with Hakuro’s ass-boy Archer when he got the chance. “So, just the fact that these men were from Xing implicates my involvement in some manner? How are you coming to that conclusion?”

“They confessed, Mustang. That they were in collusion with a State Alchemist in an attempt to overthrow the government by undermining it.”

Roy crossed his arms over his chest, held back his laugh, and waited for a further explanation. This would be rich. Very rich, indeed.

“They confessed that this State Alchemist had a specialty in incendiary devices. Said he made them up from apparently thin air.”

Roy cocked an eyebrow and waited some more.

“Everything they said to me adds up, Mustang.” Hakuro leaned forward in an intimidating manner. “What did they offer you, boy?”

“Adds up, you say?” Roy said by way of answer. “You must have been horrible with mathematics in Academy, General. I think you’re taking two and two and coming up with something like seven.” Roy leaned forward himself, so that he could look Hakuro directly in his eye. “I don’t know anything about any men from Xing.”

“I say you do.”

“And I say you’re reaching. I wonder why it’s so important to implicate me.” Roy shrugged. “I’m very curious. Because it would have to be very important for you to ignore the important fact that my specialty is not incendiaries. It’s manipulation of gases, both noble and not. I transmute them into their flammable state with the use of alchemy and ignition.” He smiled a toothy grin. “I see. It must be that thin air statement that had your mind ticking. But, I’m not the one who specialized in creating incendiary devices.” He snapped his bare fingers. “I create flames. Flames burn. The do not explode.” He said the next thing on purpose, to see if he could get his own rise from Hakuro. “They _raze_ , they don’t _ruin_. A fine distinction, but one nonetheless.”

“I don’t see that distinction.”

This man had to get more training in interrogation, Roy thought. Or maybe he just had to want Roy’s downfall more. Because this was easy. “Were the trains burned? Was there any of the charring indicative of a fire burning prior to explosion? No, there wasn’t, was there? They were _ruined_.” He shook his head. “That’s not really my style. There’s no flair in explosion. A spectacular effect is true. However, there is nothing...creative about it. Too dirty. There are too many reminders left, doing that.” He flicked his gaze up, offering up a minute bit of emotion, just enough to distract. “You should have remembered that.”

“I do remember that. I also know the particular former State Alchemist you refer to is in prison for the rest of his natural life.”

“Yes, that is what we were all told.”

Hakuro paused a moment at the tone of Roy’s voice. But, he shook his head, continuing on his line of questioning. “You’re seeking to distract me, Mustang. These men implicate a State Alchemist who has the ability to explode objects, utilizing flammable objects. These men are from Xing–,”

Roy decided to end the torture himself. That word, that name was really beginning to grate on his nerves. Especially since someone was trying to use it against him. “Ah, now I understand.” Roy’s lip curled. “You really have looked deep for your information. I wonder where you got your facts. I suppose that’s what you mean by... impropriety.” His hand clenched on the tabletop. “However, I don’t see that as an impropriety, per se. More like an accident of birth.”

“It could make you vulnerable to these kind of conspiracies.”

“Why? Oh, that’s right.” Roy’s voice took on a bitter, bitter tang that he hoped would slash the General across his smug, ugly face. “Because my mother happened to be one of that country’s myriad of princesses – number five, I believe she told my father. That wasn’t in my file, was it?” He continued, relishing the look on Hakuro’s face. “No, it wasn’t. Well allow me to clarify the story for you.” This would be as good a time as any to distract Hakuro from his line of questioning.

“My mother – a princess of Xing – decided that she didn’t want to remain invisible on the playing field of power. If they wouldn’t let her play, she decided to take her toys and go elsewhere. She came across the desert, out of boredom or disgruntlement or whatever reason led her over here, to see what we pitifully backward people in Amestris did for amusement.”

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. “She told my father all about her reasons for coming. He was the first beautifully exotic man she’d come across. Apparently, they didn’t have redheads where she came from.” He took a breath and barreled ahead, ignoring the hardening of the General’s jawline that indicated an anger building. “Did you know that it was his hair that made her decide to seduce him? That and his minor wealth and stability. My mother was under a misguided notion that she could use what wealth he had to start a campaign to get to the throne of Xing.” His hand hurt, he was clenching it so hard, forcing these words out with a nonchalance he certainly didn’t feel. How dare this bastard force him to show one of his carefully held cards against him!

After his aunt told him all of this, Roy felt dirty, unclean because of the reason he was born. His mother sought to chain his father to her, and force his hand to help her with his campaign. It was common practice in Xing; unfortunately, it hadn’t worked on his father. His mother left defeated; his father withered away because of betrayal and heartbreak.

After letting him rage it out for a while, his aunt reminded Roy that, despite it all, his father raised him with love. She reminded him that his creation was not a reflection of what he could become.

He summoned up a memory of that whiplash anger he’d felt back then and served it up in a gaze that would have charred Hakuro’s skin from his face had he been an expert with incendiary devices. “So, because I was the result of that piece of particular bit of court intrigue, I am vulnerable to these kind of conspiracies?” He glared at Hakuro. “Try again, General.”

“There is no other explanation, Colonel.” Either the man was extremely stupid, or he thought that Roy was on the edge of breaking. Hakuro had pulled some connection out his ass, built on an elimination of some crucial facts, and he couldn’t leave his hypothesis alone. “Who better for them to place in power than one of their own, displaced. One who has a direct line to the ruling family? It makes sense.”

It did nothing of the kind. However, Roy wasn’t about to tell him that. Roy was about to play one of his own pieces. “There is another explanation. As I said, I’m not the Alchemist who specializes in creating incendiary devices.”

“And I said–,”

“Yes, yes, he’s in prison.” He tilted his head. “But...is he?” 

Hakuro frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What if I told you that your prisons aren’t as secure as you think they are?”

Hakuro stood as if Roy had ignited a flame underneath his ass. “I don’t know what you’re trying here, boy, but I’m not going to fall for it.” He moved toward the door. “I’m not finished with this. You think good and hard about this discussion. I suggest you come clean now, Colonel. Make it easy on yourself.” He stopped at the door. “And those you care about.”

It took everything he had not to react to that. Instead, he said, as the man took a step outside of his door. “Zolof Kimblee isn’t in prison anymore, Hakuro,” and took great satisfaction in seeing the man flinch. When the man whirled back to him, he gave one of his patented smiles.

“He’s dead. That, General, is an irrefutable fact. Ask me how I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! I really appreciate all of the comments and reviews you leave.


	40. U Tried to Take Me, But I Knew All Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took about fifteen minutes for Hughes to come back to the office. He stepped through the door with the proper amount of solemnity, and then let loose the largest grin she’d ever seen on a person’s face as soon as the door shut. “We’ll have to give that man a cookie!” he said. “The Colonel, I mean, of course. From the look on the General’s face, I believe he got a lot more than he bargained for when he tried to tangle with Roy.”

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 38: You Tried to Take Me, But I Knew All Along**

**Rating: T**

**Soundtrack: Trouble – P!nk**

 

Riza tried her best not to look up as General Hakuro stormed into the office, but it was hard. The man looked like his rear end was on fire. His complexion was an alarming shade of ruddy red and if one looked very close, one would have seen smoke coming out of the man’s nose. Everyone else in the room made it out of their seat before her to salute the man, so she was saved the trouble when he waved all of them back down. His goal was obvious and he didn’t care about anything else in pursuit of it.

Thank goodness, Hughes had left the Colonel’s desk earlier to interview a few more people. More than likely, he was just showing off more photographs of Elysia because he’d already ‘interviewed’ everyone at least three times. She believed that the girl was past composing her first symphony and now wanted to put on her own play. Riza was surprised she didn’t see tickets being printed already.

Hakuro snatched up the phone on Roy’s desk and barked instructions into it. Riza kept her expression neutral as she heard him requesting Major Archer at Central on a secured line. When he got his connection, he continued to bark instructions, this time at the Major in reference to the ‘Tin City Laboratory Theft’.

Riza’s ears perked up at that.

After an eternity of waiting, General Hakuro finally snapped into the phone. “Are you sure? There is a report? Who signed off?” He heard the answer and his eyes narrowed. “That’s why there was no connection. Read me the brief on what happened.”

As she pretended not to watch him listen, she saw his eyes wander in her direction. “Really? Took one of the unit members hostage, you say? Is there a name?” He turned his attention back to the pictures running through his mind. “No that doesn’t help! Attempted bodily injury? What was the date?” He nodded to thin air. “Of course, of course. And he was liquidated? And where are the remains?” He stood and looked at the phone in shock. “Dumped into an incinerator by the angry townsfolk? Are you positive?” Hakuro gave a bitter laugh. “Poetic. Damned poetic. Well, that theory is blown out of the water.” 

Riza was relieved. So, he’d questioned the Colonel and had gotten more information than he’d bargained for.

“What?” Hakuro suddenly said. “Classified?” Again, the man’s eyes wandered in her direction, and widened at whatever Archer had just told him. “Order 3217? Are you positive?” He cursed. “No, you imbecile, you cannot use that order as evidence for anything more than the fact that the girl is a special case.” His eyes left her swiftly when he caught her looking.

Riza slammed her eyes back down to the paper in front of her.

“Well, Major, if you bothered to read the entire order,” Hakuro was saying, this time with contempt stemming from bad temper lacing his voice, “and if you knew anything about anything, you would know that both parties are exempt from anything we could throw their way. They answer directly to the Fuhrer. You need an order from Bradley to even point a finger and shake it in his direction.”

Riza broke out into a cold sweat that had very little to do with hormones. Something about the conversation tugged at her fight or flight instinct and she didn’t like that one bit.

“They are answerable only to the Fuhrer, Major,” Hakuro said impatiently. “If you couldn’t get the information you required from that stupid woman, then we are out of luck on that score too.” He slammed the phone down. It was on the tip of Riza’s tongue to chastise him for telephone abuse, but she held it back with a mighty effort. The idea did make her smile, though.

“Captain,” he snapped in her direction. Riza stood up then and saluted. “We will be leaving by the end of the day. I’m sure you’ll be happy to get your offices back to normal operations.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” she answered. “If I may ask, when will the Colonel be returning to work?”

Hakuro’s lip curled. “He can return to work when he’s ready to come back.”

“So he has been cleared, sir?” she asked with all of the innocence she could muster.

The man fixed her with a glare. “Yes, he has been cleared,” he said between his teeth. “It was discovered that the actual perpetrator was killed in an early action. But I’m sure you already knew that didn’t you, Captain?”

Riza blinked. “Sir? I’m not sure I–,”

“Kimblee, Captain. Zolf Kimblee. Yes, I see you know what I’m speaking of now.” The General strode to the door. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes can brief you when he returns. Tell him that he can return to his own office as soon as he is able.”

“Yes, sir.”

Riza held herself still until she was sure the man was some ways down the hall. The others didn’t have that much restraint. As soon as the doorknob hit the man square in his ass, Breda, Havoc and Fuery let out a loud ‘whoop’ of joy. Falman just gave a huge grin, and ran his hand over his brow as if wiping away sweat. Riza sat down and allowed herself a small, reserved smile.

It took about fifteen minutes for Hughes to come back to the office. He stepped through the door with the proper amount of solemnity, and then let loose the largest grin she’d ever seen on a person’s face as soon as the door shut. “We’ll have to give that man a cookie!” he said. “The Colonel, I mean, of course. From the look on the General’s face, I believe he got a lot more than he bargained for when he tried to tangle with Roy.”

“He said you would brief us, Hughes,” Riza said. Apparently, she was the only one who knew how to keep their cool in the midst of this thing.

“Oh, yes, yes, well. Let me see if I’ve got this correct.” Hughes moved to lean against the Colonel’s desk. “I believe that the good General was under the impression – based on some confessions from two of the people involved in the explosions – that there was a conspiracy to overthrow the government and place a...wait for it...State Alchemist in the Fuhrer’s place.”

Riza’s mouth unhinged slightly.

“However, the good General failed to make the connection to the correct State Alchemist. Because, of course Roy Mustang is the only State Alchemist who had problems with the way things were handled in the Eastern Rebellion, you know.”

Riza pursed her lips and waved a hand for Hughes to continue.

“Well, from what I understand, General Hakuro was informed of the escape and eventual execution of Zolof Kimblee.” He put a finger on his chin. “I wonder who let him on that great secret.” He grinned again. “Anyway, that completely blew Hakuro’s theory out of the water. He received confirmation that Lieutenant General Grumman filed a report confirming just that, so now, he has to drop the case and file it as solved.”

“So...the Colonel has definitely been released from house arrest?” She asked.

“He can come back to work whenever he’s ready to.” Hughes snorted. “I wonder if he’ll take a few days off to, ah, recover.”

“Are you kidding me?”

The voice in the doorway galvanized everyone into action. Everyone except Riza, who stood there as if her shoes were glued to the floor. She did manage a sketchy salute, when the Colonel breezed into the room. The others saluted as well, and then fell to pounding the man on his back and offering congratulations.

“I know they say there is no place like home,” the Colonel said, “but I can safely say that I’ve had enough of those four walls for a good while.” He smiled winningly as he moved closer to where Riza was rooted in her spot. “I might even decide to do some overtime.” He stopped in front of her and saluted again.

Riza was mortified to find her mouth suddenly dry, her limbs heavy and heart pounding. She forced her hand back to her forehead.

“Captain, I’m certain that you’ve done a wonderful job keeping my office in tip-top shape,” he said, with a slow smile meant just for her.

“Yes, sir,” she said in the reediest voice she’d ever heard.

He lowered his eyes to half-mast. “And I wanted to thank you for your delivery the other day,” he continued, turning away and moving around his desk. “It... came in handy.”

“I’m glad, sir.” That sounded stronger, and her feet felt like they could actually move. She actually managed to pick them up and make them take her back to her own desk.

Hughes looked from one to the other, and then clapped his hands together. “You know what this calls for? A celebration. Yes, indeed! What’s say we shut down early and head to the nearest watering hole for a couple hours?”

The Colonel looked up at his friend, blinking. He thought about it for all of three seconds. “That’s a fabulous idea!”

“But, sir–,” Riza started automatically. “There are–,”

“They can wait, Captain,” the Colonel swept by her, growing more like his old self with each second. “I think I want to show my gratitude to my unit for their hard work and support during this trying time.” He waved his hand in her direction. “Come, join us for once.”

Riza’s eyebrow went up at that. Was that pleading she heard in the back of his voice? She took a better look at him. Yes, he did look a bit manic, as if he was containing himself with great effort. She even noticed that he’d been clenching his fists unconsciously, as he always did while trying to contain a great emotion. Then it dawned on her, finally. He didn’t know that the others were aware of things.

As she moved toward the rest of them, she elbowed Hughes, hoping beyond hope he could get the hint. When he looked at her, she jerked her head at the Colonel, and then looked at the others.

He didn’t disappoint her. It took the man a moment, but his eyes lit with realization. “Ah, Colonel, there were a few things I wanted to go over with you before we left...” He put a hand on the man’s shoulder and steered him away from the others for a moment.

Riza went to the phone to call for a driver – or two. There was no way that they would all fit into one car, try as they might.

Then she found herself swept along with them toward the outside, still a bit in shock.

She’d expected a day or maybe two to prepare for his return, to wipe that image of his tortured face from her mind. But, there he was, moving through things like a whirlwind, sweeping everything from his path like always. Almost as if the past week hadn’t even happened. She believed that act as if she believed in rainbow wishes. Well, at least he’d shaved.

A shamelessly grinning Hughes helped her into her grey car. He looked as if someone had told him that his daughter received some coveted award for her composition talents. She slid all the way toward the window on the other side and waited. Sure enough, the Colonel followed a curious expression on his face.

Hughes hesitated at the door of the car. He took a step, and then shook his head. Now there was a positively wicked gleam in his eye as he entered the car and sat next to the Colonel.

The Colonel frowned in his friend’s direction. “I thought you were riding up front with Dennison,” he asked, almost darkly. Riza tried to look closer to see what was wrong, but he was turned away.

She could see Hughes’ face, though, and it was covered with mischief from one end to the other. “I was. But then I wanted to spend as much time with my best friend as I possibly could!” He leaned around the Colonel to look at Riza. “You don’t mind do you, Captain?”

She divided a look between them, as the Colonel turned to her and tried to convey something with his eyes so that Hughes couldn’t see. Suddenly, the light dawned. A slow smile crept over her face. “Of course not, Lieutenant Colonel. I understand completely.”

The Colonel crossed his arms and did his best impression of a ten-year-old. “This is revenge, isn’t it, Maes? For that night, isn’t it? Revenge, pure and simple.”

“A dish best served cold, I hear,” Hughes said, making himself quite comfortable, and draping his arm over his best friend’s shoulders.

Riza wanted to laugh until her sides ached. As if she would allow anything to go on in the back of a military issue sedan car. As if she could let anything go on in the back of a car in her state. Even as much as she wanted to.

But that would wait. She was making plans even as they moved toward the old watering hole. Every time she looked to her right, she came up with another ingenious idea. She was sure, by the time they reached the tavern, that her companions thought her completely mad.

They spent quite a few hours there. About halfway through, both Edward and Alphonse entered, garnering strange looks from some of the patrons. Riza waved them toward her.

“Edward! Alphonse! Come over here with the juice drinking crowd.”

“Yes, remember, little kids and alcohol don’t mix, Boss,” Havoc threw in from behind his tall glass of stout.

Riza saw Edward’s left eye actually cross and his right eye twitch. She covered her mouth with a hand to keep the liquid she’d just swallowed inside.

“Little? Who-are-you-calling-so-little-that-he-could-be-mistaken-for-an-ice-cube-in-that-nasty-old-glass-of-stinking-beer!”

Fortunately, Alphonse caught his brother around the middle before he could go charging in the Lieutenant’s direction.

“It isn’t stinking beer; it’s stout,” Havoc told him, “and I would never ruin the taste of such a great brew with an ice cube. Especially one as small as you.”

It was a good thing that Alphonse had the strength of someone twice his age.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to be around when Edward gets him alone,” the Colonel whispered in her ear.

Her mouth gave a little quirk and she leaned back. “But you will want to be around when I get you alone,” she whispered back. And was quite satisfied with the flush of color on his face and the clearing of his throat.

He fidgeted in his chair and swallowed most of the glass he’d been nursing all evening in one gulp. “Fullmetal, do calm yourself. You are drawing unwanted attention.”

The young alchemist subsided slowly and straightened his jacket. He accepted a glass of the juice from Riza’s pitcher and stuffed himself into a chair. Riza noted that he placed himself so that he had a clear visual of Havoc where he sat with the others. Every time the man brought a cigarette to his mouth to take a drag, Edward rolled his eyes.

“Problem with the poison stick, Fullmetal?” The Colonel asked with a half-smile. Riza took in the half-lidded look and smiled herself. The Colonel had been nursing the same glass most of the evening; it would put him in the perfect mood she was looking for.

“Ever lick an ashtray?” Edward grumbled, flushing.

The Colonel chuckled. “No, can’t say that I have. Don’t think I’d want to, either.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want to, either!”

Interesting. Riza noticed that, even from the distance between the tables, Havoc heard them. She gathered that much from the way he snuffed out the half-smoked cigarette and leaned back, mutinous, pointedly not looking in their direction. Moreover, for the last hour they were there, he didn’t light one other cigarette. Riza was impressed by the power the young man had over her friend. She would have to find out his secret one day.

Finally, everyone looked up from his or her glasses, some half-glazed, some pleasantly mellow, some–like herself–fully alert but relaxed. She didn’t know about anyone else, but she was ready to call it a night. She stood.

Everyone blinked up at her as she said, “I think I’ve been up way past my bedtime. I’m going home.” She looked at her table companions, especially the Colonel, who had come in her car. “Do you think you can find your way home? Should I send the car back for you?”

He shook his head, and then grabbed the tabletop. “Um...think that would be a good idea. Have Dennison come back for me.” He raised his finally empty glass. “Thank you, Captain.”

“My pleasure, Colonel.”

She saw his jaw muscle jump. Just slightly, but enough. She left before she said anything else incriminating. She swore that she heard Hughes chuckling evilly as she left them to the rest of her evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through this remix. Got a little ways to go, but I'm sure you'll enjoy the rest of the ride. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Next Chapter Preview:
> 
> Riza had Dennison wait outside of her house. Running inside, she rummaged through her drawers for the things she needed and tossed them into her rucksack. All of her necessities went in before she moved over to the bottom most drawer. It took some doing; getting down that far was getting harder and harder as the weeks went by. This would probably be the last time she could even go down to the drawer and get anything out on her own. 
> 
> She grimaced. This would probably be the last time she would be able to do anything interesting until the baby was born. At that thought, she smiled. That just gave her incentive to make this evening the best she could make it.


	41. Everything You Dared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She would not allow Roy to think of his home as a prison, a place where his choices were limited. The memory she was about to generate would go a long way to do that, she was sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spiciness abounds in this chapter. A little light bondage, a lot of steaminess.

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 39: Everything You Dared**

**Rating: M**

**Soundtrack: Bliss – Mariah Carey**

 

Riza had Dennison wait outside of her house. Running inside, she rummaged through her drawers for the things she needed and tossed them into her rucksack. All of her necessities went in before she moved over to the bottom most drawer. It took some doing; getting down that far was getting harder and harder as the weeks went by. This would probably be the last time she could even go down to the drawer and get anything out on her own.

She grimaced. This would probably be the last time she would be able to do anything interesting until the baby was born. At that thought, she smiled. That just gave her incentive to make this evening the best she could make it.

In the drawer, she fished out two silk scarves, both given to her by her grandfather in some pitiful last-ditch effort of get her into some sort of ultra-feminine clothing. She still hadn’t discovered what she was actually supposed to do with the scarves, though she liked her idea better than what her grandfather originally planned for her. She gave it a moment of thought, then shrugged and picked up one of the pillows from her bed, rolled it as tight as she could and shoved it in there as well. She knew that Roy only had one pitiful pillow and as far as pillows went, she was not in a sharing mood these days.

Hayate thumped his tail on the ground before she scooped him up under one arm. He gave a little wiggle, knowing that he was going outside, and subsided when she dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

In the car, she spent the time going to Roy’s home finalizing her plans. If Dennison noticed her evil grin in the rear view mirror, he didn’t comment. He only asked whether he had to pick up the Colonel. She nodded and handed over her key, telling him to make sure that Hughes got it, so that he would have somewhere to spend the night that wasn’t a sparse little dormitory room. That would also give the people tailing her something to think about when they got to the end of the trail. Dennison noticed the indiscreet vehicle behind them as well and took the circuitous route to Roy’s house, hoping to shake them by the time they got there. After circling the same block four times, the unmarked car gave up and returned to whatever rock under which such little spies lived. She wasn’t letting anything–anything–spoil this evening.

She let herself into Roy’s house and looked around, surprised that it was returned to its simple state so quickly. They even removed and replaced the broken chair. On the table was a stack of neatly placed gloves. She smiled at that. Taking those was like taking the life from him. Still, the place had an air of oppression about it, as if the memory of confinement still hung in the air. She dared not open the window, but she knew she could find another way to lift the leftover feeling. She would not allow Roy to think of his home as a prison, a place where his choices were limited. The memory she was about to generate would go a long way to do that, she was sure.

She looked at the watch on Roy’s bedside table and realized she didn’t have much time. Just enough for a quick shower, soothing on her back. The gown was nothing she’d ever expected to wear in all her life after leaving her grandfather’s house; it was a...fluffy concoction of white cotton and lace, with tiny pearl buttons down the front. Long in the sleeves, high in the neck and reaching the floor, it was entirely reminiscent of something one of those damsels in distress would wear in her favorite romance novel. But, it was comfortable, it kept her warm when she needed it to, cool when she needed it to and the last time she’d worn it for Roy, his eyes crossed. He said it was something about the way the light shone on it, giving him just the barest hint of silhouette, just enough to titillate.

Riza shrugged. There was no explaining the workings of this man’s mind. She rubbed at her hair with a towel until it was almost dry and left it in its tousled state. She looked at herself in the mirror tacked to the wall then and rolled her eyes. The things she did for this man. She should have several medals by now.

After she’d dressed, she stood there with the silk scarves and considered the big four-poster bed. Where could she...the headboard might work...or maybe she could use one of the posts...

The sound of the key in the lock caught her attention. Well, the sound of someone attempting to put the key into the lock. She smiled. She hoped that he was not too drunk to do what she wanted him to do. Her smile grew wider as she remembered that it really hadn’t mattered how drunk he was. He always performed.

He stumbled slightly over the threshold, squinting to see into the room. She was standing next to the bed, so she knew she wasn’t too hard to see, especially in the glowing white dressing gown. And yes, she’d arranged it so his lamp shone on her, giving him that silhouette as the first thing he saw. As his eyes rested on her, he froze, wavering slightly on his feet.

“I certainly hope you behaved yourself after I left, Roy,” she said softly. “You know how I feel about you and alcohol.”

“I think...I’m gonna kill Maes for keeping me there the extra hour,” Roy said, his voice surprisingly steady. “You know I didn’t have much more after you left.”

Riza shook her head and sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t kill Maes. I told him to keep you there the extra hour. I needed to make a few preparations.”

He looked around, and managed to bend down to pat Black Hayate on his head. “Why are we here? Not at your house?”

“Because I know what they did to you when he confined you here. I didn’t want you to feel that this was your prison.” She ran the scarves through her hands. “I want your memories of this place include to more than those of the past week.”

He moved closer to her, gradually. “What are you...going to do with those?” His voice had deepened with curiosity and the beginning of desire.

“Come closer and you’ll find out.”

“Do I want to?” He asked.

Her answer was a slow smile.

He finally closed on her and reached out a hand, pulling one of the scarves from her hands. He tugged it between his hands. “So soft...and strong...”

“Silk is like that.” 

He flicked a look in her direction. “So are you.”

Riza laughed. “You never cease do you?”

“Just let me know when it finally gets to you and I’ll stop.”

“Hm.” She pushed herself back on the bed and leaned against the headboard. “Remember when you asked me to try something a few months ago? I told you I wasn’t ready for it yet.”

His hands froze. She could see the thoughts moving behind his eyes. “I... think I remember.”

“Think hard,” she whispered. “It involved using something like this...”

He gasped softly. “Yes... you have me now.”

“Only now?” She asked with light mocking in her voice. “Do you know the reason I didn’t want to?”

He looked up with haunted eyes. “Because of what that... bastard did to you?”

Riza nodded. “That...and... the loss of control.” She reached up and tied one end of the scarf in her hand to the headboard. “You know that my hands are vital to me. To what I do, to the way I protect you. I need always to have access to my weapon. For them to be...bound in that way is a severe loss of control for me.” She hoped she was explaining clearly enough for him to understand. “It... scares me sometimes.”

He grimaced and looked away from her for a moment. “When they took my ignition gloves... and then removed everything I could even use to make a spark...it hurt more than anything they did to me. It was like they had tied me up against the wall and left me there to hang, helpless.” He looked back at her in realization. “The way Kimblee had you...”

She nodded. “They took control from you.” Riza looked up at him.

He blinked at her for a moment. “And you want to give me my control... back? Like this?” He shook his head. “No, you don’t need to do this. It’s not necessary.”

“But,” and now she smiled mischievously, “I want to. I’m... curious.”

“Curious.” He sat on the edge of the bed and stared, then shook his head. “Curious, the woman says. Then presented her with a mischievous smile of his own. “You trust me?”

“You need to ask me that question?”

“This can’t be comfortable for you... aren’t you suppose to... stay off of your back?”

She spread her hands wide. “Do I look like I’m on my back?”

He considered her sitting there against the headboard. “How are... how can we...,” He frowned.

“Come on, Roy, I know you can be...creative.”

He flushed and slid closer to her, just enough. “Let me see what I can come up with,” he breathed against her mouth, and then reached over and tied the other scarf to the headboard on her other side. Then he took the other end and looped it around her wrist, which she freely gave him. “Is that too tight?” he asked.

Riza shook her head, breathless already. She tugged experimentally and had a heady feeling that was a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. But she trusted him. He moved to tie her other wrist as well, asking her again about the tightness. When she nodded that everything was all right, he stood, and started to peel off his clothes.

She watched him, watched every move he made. Each button loosed, each inch of his skin exposed. She moved her hand to help him, but was stopped by the tension of the silk. A frisson skipped down her spine, just at the idea that she was almost helpless.

And he had all the control.

But, it wasn’t the terrible cold feeling she’d had when Kimblee had taken her and bound her to that pipe in that disgusting room. It was a warm feeling of expectancy, wondering what he was going to do next.

He stood there in front of her, naked, and her eyes hungrily raked him from head to foot. She picked out each scar he’d earned throughout his years in the military and caressed them with her eyes. Then her eyes settled to a few inches below his waist and her eyes widened slightly.

He followed her glance. “You see what you do to me?” He asked, moving back to kneel on the bed. He reached out a hand and ran it over the smooth cotton of her gown. “I would have never thought such a maidenly thing would make me crazy. But it does.” He ran his hand down and hovered around the hem of the gown. “Get on your knees,” he said, not harshly, simply. Even in the even tone he used, it wasn’t a request. It was a command. With some squirming, she managed to do it. He bunched the hem of her gown in his hand and pushed it up a few inches, baring her thighs. “But it does,” he finished. “The mystery...” He wrapped his hand around her thigh and pushed up, slowly, painfully slow until it reached the juncture of her thighs. “...of what’s underneath...”

Then he stopped.

She could feel his hands, warm and slightly trembling, right there. She kept her demand behind her teeth; tonight was all about him and the return of his control.

He stroked the crease where her leg met her body with a finger. He had to feel that she was already growing hot and damp just from the thought of what he could do to her.

He did, because he moved his finger closer. She squirmed a bit in anticipation and he stopped. “Hold still,” he told her. “Don’t move.”

She took a deep breath and did as he told her.

“I don’t want to hurt you...and I know things can get uncomfortable for you quickly.” His index finger flicked at her, making her gasp and jerk against the bonds holding her. He’d given her about a foot of leeway, but she still couldn’t move farther than that. “And I also know how...sensitive you are. You are very sensitive, aren’t you?”

She nodded, because her heart was in her throat and what he was doing with that finger...he flicked again and she twitched involuntarily and moaned low in her throat.

He leaned forward and kissed her throat, grazing her skin with his teeth. She shivered. He wandered up to her ear and flicked his tongue against her. “You like that?”

She nodded, almost frantically.

He finally stopped torturing her with his finger, rested his hand against her and moved it in a circular motion. His first two fingers dipped into her, and pushed deep, making her arch against him.

He stopped again, giving her a hard look. “I said don’t move, right?” he said softly, with a layer of menace overlying it. She shivered, then subsided. When he decided she was ready again, he continued to move those fingers. As he worked her with his hand he moved closer, so close she could just feel his skin against her. His other hand snaked under the gown and ran it over her behind and up her back, leaving heat trails in their wake.

Riza whimpered as he stroked her closer to climax, close with each fluttering motion of those two fingers. Then he wrapped his free hand over her shoulder and pushed down, impaling her completely. It took her over the edge, trembling around his fingers.

He chuckled softly against her neck as she came down, panting. “You still alright with this?” He breathed.

She nodded, feeling the trembling in his own body. She could feel his need to be inside of her as if it were a tangible thing. She wanted to demand that he hurry up already and take her up again, but it was still his call, his ride.

His ride. Which he was about to make it in literal fact. He pushed her thighs slightly farther apart and lifted, moving himself under her. With the length he’d left in the scarves, she was far enough away from the headboard to make it comfortable. He ran his hands over her swollen stomach, murmuring words, some dirty and nasty, some soft and sweet.

She tried. She tried with everything she had to keep still. But his breath against her neck, his hands on her waist, moving her into position undid her. Her body began a trembling that began at her feet and took over her whole. With his other hand, he lined himself up and then lowered her, inch by painfully sweet inch around his hardness. A sound left her, from somewhere deep, and wrapped itself around his own low groan.

He ground against her and lifted her, almost without effort, sliding into her over and over again. She could feel him deep inside of her, deep and deeper still, until he could go no further. She couldn’t help it and started to grind in his lap. “Sorry,” she murmured, “I can’t...”

“Don’t stop...,” he moaned, holding her tight against him, and buried his head against her shoulder.

She tried to move her hands to wrap around his neck, but again she couldn’t. The motion made her moan. She tried to move up, but he pinned her and raised his head, giving her an inflamed look. He twitched his hips, pushing himself deeper inside of her. She gasped and sobbed around it, able, yet still unable to move, unable to control the movements any further.

“This is about. Me, right?” he growled, twitching his hips again. “My...ah...control, right?”

She nodded, swallowing the cry that wanted to escape her.

“Then I’ll tell you once more. Don’t–,” he thrust up, “move anymore.” And he thrust up again. She cried out.

He pulled her so that she was reclined, hanging slightly from the scarves, her rear flat on the bed, her knees bent. He moved over her and between her legs and thrust as deep as he could into her, as hard as he dared. Her head began to thrash back and forth as she hung there, suspended by the silken cords around her wrists, helpless against his assault. She wanted to tell him he couldn’t hurt her, that he could go harder and harder, but he choked off every sound with a deep thrust. The only thing she could do was wrap the scarves around her hand and pull against them, making the headboard tremble with the force.

“Don’t...pull...yourself...so close,” he told her. “Don’t want you...to...bump your head...”

She laughed. “So caring...”

“Are you sure...damn! I’m not hurting the baby?”

She leaned up and whispered, “Trust me.”

He moaned. As she watched, his eyes grew smoky before he closed them. “Come for me again, Riza...come for me again....”

There were little explosions happening behind her tightly shut eyes as she did just that, on his command alone. As she spasmed around him, she could feel his thrusts grow more erratic, could feel the heat of his breath licking against her body.

“That’s it...that’s it...oh, my—,” Suddenly, with almost no warning, he stiffened against her, his eyes wide. A low, sobbing cry escaped him as he pulsed once, twice inside of her, then wrapped his arms around her, holding her as tight as he dared. She was sure that he could feel the baby leaping inside of her in reaction to the shaking in her own body. He gasped and withdrew from her and let her down, looking at her in surprise. “You...you sure that doesn’t hurt?’ he said, pushing his hair, damp with sweat, from his eyes.

She smiled and shook her head. “No, it’s not hurting. Honest.” She saw the doubt in his eyes and shook her head. “Really, believe me.”

He quickly moved to untie her, muttering under his breath. When she was loose and could rub the slight tingle of numbness out of her hands, he pulled her close. “I don’t want to hurt the baby.”

“And you won’t,” Riza assured him. “We won’t fall apart from a little bit of rough play.”

“A little bit?” He looked at her. “What do you know about what’s a little bit of rough sex?”

Riza ducked her head and settled herself into a more comfortable position, because, unfortunately the muscles in her back were starting to complain. “Do you honestly think that Gracia and I spent all that time together only drinking coffee and tea, and eating crumpets?” She reached out and pushed his bottom jaw up, closing his mouth with an almost audible click. “We talked too. She’s a very...knowledgeable young lady.” She looked at him out of the side of her eyes. “Very knowledgeable for a woman who was completely innocent when she married her husband. Wanna know what else she taught me?”

“Um...maybe after I recover.” He held up a hand. “And, no, I don’t want to know how she’s so...knowledgeable.”

“Good. Because Maes would have to kill me if he found out what I know.”

Roy groaned and buried his head into the pillow beside her head. “I’m scarred, now. Truly scarred.”

She pushed at him. “Oh, stop being such a little girl,” she admonished lightly. “I’m still waiting on you to teach me what you know about rough play. And don’t tell me you’re innocent, either.” She straightened her gown and curled up around him, preparing for a short rest before round two. “I hear that the Academy was a bit of a learning experience for you in many ways.”

As he choked and sputtered, she wrapped her arms around the extra pillow. With that threat, round two should be even more interesting that the first.

Because, then, it would be her turn to be in control.

 

 


	42. Let's Take it to Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He saw the smile on Riza’s face grow with each inch he grew. “Um... I suppose it’s your turn now?” he said, trying to rise to the occasion. Being tied made him just the smallest bit nervous. Not that he was against the idea, but the feeling always accompanied the act, no matter how many times he tried it.

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 40: Let’s Take it to Perfection**

**Rating: M**

**Soundtrack: Sock it 2 Me – Missy Elliott**

 

Roy snapped awake, all at once. Eyes wide, he stared at the ceiling of his own home and wondered what had invaded his sleep. Certainly, there were no sounds that were out of place, only the soft breathing of Riza beside him and the occasional snuffling of Black Hayate somewhere in the place. There were no more knocks on his door from the two guards who used to be outside, no interesting visits from General Hakuro. He sat up in bed to look around.

At least he tried to sit up in bed. He made it upright okay, but when he tried to move he noticed a very interesting thing.

His hands were attached to two silk scarves. And those scarves were attached to his headboard.

And there was a wicked, wicked woman sitting at the foot his bed, with a wicked, wicked look on her pretty, heart-shaped face.

“Um...Riza...?” he began weakly.

“Oh, you’re awake. Did I startle you? I’m sorry.”

He didn’t like that placid sound to her voice; he looked down and realized what had woken him up so suddenly. She’d been running a finger on the sole of his right foot, which she did again. The sensation traveled up said leg and straight to his crotch, which chose that exact moment to let everyone present know exactly what it thought of being woken up so suddenly and so naughtily.

He saw the smile on Riza’s face grow with each inch _he_ grew. “Um... I suppose it’s your turn now?” he said, trying to rise to the occasion. Being tied made him just the smallest bit nervous. Not that he was against the idea, but the feeling always accompanied the act, no matter how many times he tried it.

“Do you trust me?” she asked softly, moving until she was sitting beside him.

“Impeccably,” he answered swiftly, noting the minute nervousness in the back of those beautiful eyes of hers. With the way she was sitting there, he could barely make out the curve of her stomach, and the fullness of her breasts beneath the gown. He knew she was a bit embarrassed by the way she was expanding, a little irritated with the little marks the baby left here and there on her body. But his only goal was to touch her, to trace each tiny spider vein, each little stretch mark until she made that little sound in the back of her throat. He even reached out – and stopped.

Her mouth quirked. “I know the feeling,” she whispered, then without much more warning than that, bent over him and kissed him right on the side of his hip.

He twitched.

She placed a hand flat on his stomach. “I’m going to have to ask you to stay still, Roy.”

He shut his eyes for a moment and digested that. Then fixed his gaze on the ceiling and tried to think of anything else but... the darkness suddenly covering his eyes. He was startlingly speech-impaired all at once, as she tied the black scarf over his eyes.

“Is this all right?” he heard her say, without a touch of reservation in her voice. She knew it would be all right. He would have to have a talk with Maes about his wife, damn it.

He nodded, and then swallowed when he felt her hand back on his stomach.

“Good. Because we’re going to have find different ways to... do this... soon.”

“Uh-huh... ” He said, his voice cracking on the last syllable, because her hand started to wander down, slowly, way too slowly for his comfort. “ I can speak, right?”

“Of course. I need to know when I’ve gone too far...”

It took everything he had not to move when her hand reached its destination, and he could feel one finger trace its way up his length. His breath left in one short gasp as her hand circled his cock and stroked, once, twice, three times.

“Very nice. Nerves of steel.” Riza’s voice had taken a dip, was so low that he could feel the vibrations. “That’s not all that’s steel, hmm?”

“Riza...” The rest of the plea cut off as she read his mind. At least he thought she read his mind. Something warm and wet surrounded the tip of his cock, and then slowly lowered. She wasn’t... she couldn’t... his hips twitched again. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help it, oh, please don’t stop!

“Do that again and I’ll stop, all right?”

He nodded frantically, remembering almost the same words coming out of his own mouth a short hour ago. At least she could see him touching her, kissing her. Riza was mean, truly mean and all he could do was hang on and oh, dear God, she was taking him into her mouth. She never did that, except that one time when she almost choked and oh, he had to stay still because it wouldn’t do for her to choke now, not now when she was sucking oh so delicately. He moaned, his head starting to move slowly on the pillow. She was taking him deeper, slowly, but deeper still, until he could feel the back of her throat. And she stopped then, rested, then started moving up and down, letting him go long enough to twirl her tongue around his tip and where in the hell did she learn that from? Oh, yeah. Yes, definitely a talk was due. And a prayer of thanksgiving, to whoever took care of such things.

She withdrew, leaving him out in the cold and trembling from head to foot. “Enough of that,” she said smartly. Then he could hear some rustling, felt the bed shift, felt the breeze of her moving over him, settling on his lower legs for a moment.

Then there was nothing. Only her breathing, and his gasps, loud in the silence of the room. What was going on? He moved his head, as if he could look around the blindfold, although of course he knew he couldn’t see, that was the meaning of this torture, talk about loss of control, oh, oh...

He heard and felt the movement, then her hand taking him once more and... Was that... yes, she was guiding him, sliding him in... Oh... fuck... a strangled sound left him and he pulled at the bonds, trying, trying so hard not to move, because she promised she would stop if he moved and she couldn’t stop.

Not now while she was so tight around his cock, sliding up and down, moving as effortlessly as she had a few months ago and he would shake her if she said one more thing about her so-called bulk, about how she was the size of a river barge, because she was light, light as a feather, light as heaven, moving up and down, slowly, oh, so slowly and down and rocking back and forth, just tightening enough to make things explode in the back of his brain.

He wasn’t going to last much longer if she kept this up. Not being able to see, only feel her hotness, her tightness, her smoothness, and he couldn’t touch, couldn’t move, and, okay, he was going to die. No more dreams of being the Fuhrer, no, not for him, because he was going to be dead, and who wanted a dead Fuhrer hanging around, stinking up the place? 

He only hoped she would tell their child that he loved him... her... whatever it was, and damn it she was coming, he could feel the little spasms inside of her, hear the tiny pants she made when she was in that state. He could only picture her head thrown back, her back as arched as far as it would go, her hair tousled and tangled on her shoulders, and that was all he needed.

Okay, he wasn’t quite dead. But his vocal chords were done for the next ten years. He was sure he shattered them with that yell. People for miles would hear him.

Every inch of his skin tingled as she moved. When she placed her hand on his arm to brace herself, he gasped, because he felt the shock all through him. A whimper escaped him unbidden, and again as her hand moved sweeping over his midsection as she settled on her side, moved up his chest slowly, then to the blindfold.

She fingered it for a moment–she wasn’t going to leave it there, was she–then she move to untie it.

He blinked, even though it was still half-dark. His lashes felt wet and as he opened his eyes, moisture leaked out of the edges and down the side of his face.

She caught one of the tears with her fingertip, then moved and left a kiss on his temple. “Feel better about this place, now?” she asked, breathless herself.

He turned his head to look at her. Her eyes were shut, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. Her lips were swollen, moist and begging to be kissed.

There was one problem. “Ah... do I get loose tonight? Or do you have more for me?”

She chuckled and moved, reaching up to untie him. As soon as he was free, he turned, before she could move and pinned her on her back. Only for a moment, because he knew better, just long enough to drop a kiss on those perfect lips. She tugged his bottom lip between hers and nibbled a moment, then let him up so she could move to her side. “I think that’ll be enough for tonight. Can’t use it all up at once.”

Use it up? He felt like a boneless doll and she was talking about using it up.

His phone rang, completely spoiling the moment. He couldn’t move, not even an inch. He looked hopefully at her.

“If I answer it, with our luck...,” she said.

He sighed and made himself move. It was an ungodly hour, so it could only be one of a few people. He made it to the phone by the fourth ring.

“This had better be really good,” he growled.

“It is.” Maes’ voice was rushed, with not one hint of amusement. “There is trouble here in Central. It’s Ed again, and this time Alphonse is a mess too. Someone needs to come.

“What the hell–?” Roy yelled into the phone. Riza sat straight up, hearing it in his voice. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you everything on the phone,” Maes told him. “Just... on second thought, don’t come yourself. That might be too dangerous. Send someone else.”

“Jean,” Roy said, reading his friend’s mind. “Is it that serious?”

“Probably. Yeah, send him. He can brief you when he comes back. Damn–I’ve got to–!”

The phone went dead suddenly. He dropped the phone back into the cradle. He hated it when Maes did that. He ran a hand through his hair and looked over at his tousled Major. “I have to send Havoc to Central to pick Edward and Alphonse up. It’s bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the action next chapter, guys! Thanks for reading as always!
> 
> Keep track of progress and updates, and ask your questions over at my [Tumblr](http://crackalchemist.tumblr.com). You can track my updates by tracking the tag #BFWU for "Big Fat Weekly Update".
> 
> Till later, here's a taste of Chapter 41:
> 
>  
> 
> _Maes stood there holding what was left of a phone receiver in one hand. His other hand was poised to strike with a throwing knife that he’d released from the holder tucked in his sleeve and was now resting between his fingers._


	43. A Little More Mad in the Methadrone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Where once was a phone box at the corner of the building, right in front of the alleyway entrance, there now stood a twisted mess of metal and glass and stone fashioned into a wall that closed off that end of the alley to anyone—or anything coming their way._

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 41: A Little More Mad in the Methedrone**

**Rating: T**

**_Soundtrack: Vision Thing – Sisters of Mercy_ **

 

Maes stood there holding what remained of a phone receiver in one hand. His other hand was poised to strike with a throwing knife he’d released from the holder tucked in his sleeve and rested between his fingers.

Where once was a phone box at the corner of the building, right in front of the alleyway entrance, there now stood a twisted mess of metal and glass and stone fashioned into a wall that closed off that end of the alley to anyone—or   _anything_ coming their way. Because, despite what Edward told him about created humans, the creatures pursuing the four of them were currently doing everything they could to make sure they ceased existing.

“Right, then.” He dropped the phone and swiveled, looking for Edward—who’d made the wall that blocked the alley—and found the alchemist already in Havoc’s arms. The Second Lieutenant rushed down the alleyway, as fast as his pounding boots would take him. Maes spun again just as he heard an enormous impact against the newly fashioned barrier.

“Hughes!” Havoc yelled. “ _Get the hell out of there!”_

“Alphonse–,”

“Al’s here!” 

There was another crash and, this time, a large crack appeared in the stone. Maes didn’t need any more urging.

Squealing tires stopped them at the other end of the alleyway, as a grey sedan squealed into view. Dennison leaned out of his window and yelled at them to hurry.

Maes actually felt the tumbling of the barrier behind him and felt a piece of the stone strike him in the back of his leg as he ran. He stumbled and fell to the ground, his hands scraping against the debris. The knife in his hand skittered out of reach. Just as he saw the shadow of one of the creatures fall over him, and he turned to face the eyes, and mouth and tattooed tongue of the one who was set to devour him, he heard a gunshot—closed his eyes—

And felt a heavy gauntlet grasp his shoulder as Al dragged him out of reach, tossed him over one steel shoulder and bounced him toward the car, his body jarring with each enormous amour-clad step.

Even with a quarter of his torso missing, Al’s strength made carrying Maes seem like carrying a sack of grain. Maes had no complaints for the indignity; if it kept him from the jaws of that... thing, then he didn’t mind bouncing his ass along like a sack of grain.

Somehow, beyond all the laws of physics, they all piled into the back of the car, even Alphonse, who stuffed himself into the floor between the two back seats. Dennison peeled out just as a projectile pierced the door.

“Train station!” Maes barked. “Now!”

“Ed needs medical attention!” Havoc argued his voice hoarse.

Maes looked at the young alchemist. Edward’s black jacket and shirt were in tatters; how his red long coat escaped damage was beyond him. There was a shallow gash in Edward’s side, shallow but long and bloody. It crossed a scar from one of his previous injuries. Too many marks on such a young man.

Maes immediately stripped off his uniform jacket and the buttoned shirt underneath. Ripping and tearing the white cloth, he remembered another time he’d had to do this—in worse circumstances. That time, the person had also been young, slight, and blond, and had been lying in the arms of one who valued her life over his own. That time, though, it had not been the long, sharp fingers of some pale monster who’d given Riza that wound in her side. It had been the honest result of a bullet, grazing as she leapt in front of Roy to block a stray Ishballan’s bullet.

Just as Edward had leapt in front of Jean to block the thing’s ( _homunculus, dammit,_ Maes told himself) attack.

Maes wrapped the makeshift bandage around Edward’s middle. “Keep pressure on it, Havoc. Dennison, to hell with the train station. Keep driving until you see the banners at Central.” Before the sergeant could speak, he finished, “Stop only for fuel, or this boy will die.”

“Lieutenant Colonel!” Havoc yelled back. Maes saw the man’s hands were shaking. “He can’t hold out that long!”

“If we stop, those—homunculi—will find us!”

“He’s... right.” It was Edward’s voice, thin and murky as a mud puddle. “They’ll... find us. I... can... hold out. Just... drive, damn it.”

“Stupid little bastard,” Havoc muttered, pulling Edward closer. “You die here and I’ll fucking find a way to bring you back just so I can kill you my damned self!”

Edward’s chuckle was weak. “Who’re you calling... little?”

“Brother...” Al called from his cramped spot. Maes looked down at the damage done to the other Elric’s armor. That other thing had actually _bit_ into the metal and, as they all watched, it dissolved, leaving half of Al’s torso gone. It was eerie to look into the hollow shell, and still hear Alphonse’s voice still strong and strident. “Stop talking, Brother and conserve your strength.”

Silent, finally lost in their separate thoughts, the group rode straight through the night, and into the sunrise of the next morning.

It was as the blur of green trees sped by them, tinged by the gold and pink and yellow of sunrise, that Maes noticed the dark color spreading slowly on this own thigh. His mind scrambled back and he remembered. It had been the third homunculus who’d put the hole there, with Havoc’s own revolver. The wound was clean and only went through meat and muscles, missing bone and artery by mere chance. He tore what was left of his shirt and tied it tightly, relieved that the blood flowed so slow, though he was starting to feel a numbness traveling through his leg. He would make it to Central.

A few more inches, though, and he would have been a dead man.

That didn’t chill him as much as the memory of his assailant taking the form of his beloved daughter as it took aim and shot. Her tiny hand holding that great big gun... it was too much. _When_ it had seen Elysia? When, where and why were the key questions. How had it known?

They hit a rut in the road and Maes saw stars, the pain finally seeping through his adrenaline rush.

“Dennison, how much longer?” he asked, gasping around it.

“Going this way, sir, about one more hour. It’s the quickest way. I’m sorry, sir.”

“And fuel?”

“I always keep a full tank and a can in the boot. We’ll make it without stopping.”

“Smart man.” Maes managed a smile for the man.

“That’s why you pay me the big money, sir.”

One hour seemed an eternity when one was bleeding from a gunshot wound to the leg. Nevertheless, just as the pain became a buzzing in his brain, and morning reached its zenith, Maes saw the pennant marking Central Headquarters. It was still quite a ways off, but they would make it.

He looked over at Edward. The boy was sleeping, pale but still breathing, his head in Havoc’s lap. Havoc stared out of the window, his hand idly threading through Edward’s hair. He’d even managed to shove a cigarette between his lips and get it lit, and now the smoke trailed out of the window. Maes shook his head. “Jean.”

Jean turned slowly in his direction.

“He’ll be fine. If he weren’t, he would have left us already.”

“I know.” Jean nodded and turned back to the window. “I must be insane,” he said softly. “Every time, I lose another year off my life. It’s why I don’t like to escort these two anywhere anymore. And when I do... I drink myself silly to dull whatever may come.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’s how all this happened, you know? I was half-drunk, and he... was a little too clever-handed for me.”

Maes sighed. “You can’t help how you feel, Jean,” he answered. “No sense in fighting it. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

Havoc turned back to him and gave him a keen look. “Is that why you’ve done what you have... for them?”

Maes looked away. “They’re both good people, but they are too stubborn. The pair of them. I had to do something drastic, at the right time.”

Jean was silent for a moment. “Which one?”

Maes looked over at him. “Gracia is my heart. Elysia is my world,” Maes whispered. “The other... I have no choice in that matter. So I do what I can to make things better.”

“And that’s why this intricate dance between them goes on? You think they would be better together?”

“Don’t you?”

Jean thought about it for a moment, and then his blue eyes brightened as he looked up. “This isn’t for him, is it?”

Maes arched an eyebrow. “I suppose it is. But... if you’re asking straight, then no.”

“But...”

“Gracia and Elysia are my world. _Got it_?”

Jean nodded. “And he is hers.”

Maes nodded. “So now she’s in every part of his world, where she belongs. She can do what she needs to do on-duty and off.”

Jean tilted his head. “You think she’ll stay in the service after the baby?”

“Riza?” Maes laughed softly. “You’d have to pry the uniform from her cold, dead fingers. She’ll find a way to stay at Roy’s back, no matter what.”

“But how’s she going to raise a baby and keep them both safe?”

Maes blinked. “That should be obvious.”

Edward muttered in his sleep, taking Jean’s attention for a moment. When he was finished, he looked back up and shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

“That’s what they have friends for.” Maes watched the pennant grow closer as they finally made the main road leading to Headquarters. “Or, perhaps I should say, family.” He leaned up and called to Dennison. “Drive around by the hospital entrance.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Let’s keep all this between us, Havoc, right?” Maes said.

Jean nodded. “Of course. I’ve been supported the plan since the beginning remember? Now that I know why, I’m with you even more.”

Maes nodded, and then looked down. “That goes for you too, Alphonse.”

“My lips are sealed, Lieutenant Colonel.”

Maes chuckled. “Of course they are.”

“Mine... too...” came Edward’s exceedingly reedy voice. “And... _you_ are fucking insane, Havoc. ‘S why I–,”

“Shut up, Fullmetal,” Jean stopped him in midstream, just as they pulled up to entrance of the hospital.

]o[

Now it was Maes’ turn to be confined to quarters, though not for any violation of law. The doctor told him it would be best if he rested at his home, comfortable in his bed. Gracia would barely let him get up to piss. Her barely-contained anger made him cringe every time she came into the room. It wasn’t as if he planned to be attacked by–

“What the hell is this about homunculi, Maes?” Roy asked from his chair beside the big four-poster bed.

Maes started. He was so busy ducking his wife’s dirty looks he hadn’t even noticed his friend seat himself. “You know, you should work on the way you greet the infirm, Roy,” he complained, “It’s a good thing I’m not weak of heart or anything. I might have had a seizure, for goodness’ sake!” Which is what his friend looked like he was about to have and that was why he employed his usual banter.

Once he saw Roy minutely relax, he continued with his answer to the question. “That’s what Edward called them. And I’ve done some research these past few days.” Sheska had brought him all the books she could gather on the subject, and those she couldn’t remove from the library, she scribbled verbatim into a metric ton of little notebooks that were now scattered all over his bed. “With what Fullmetal has been able to tell me, I gather that they are, ah, created humans.”

He reached for the most recent of the notebooks. “Edward’s words, and confirmed by these entries. He said that they took great joy in telling him that they were created—how, he wasn’t able to find out before we were attacked.”

Roy sat back slowly, as if trying to retreat from the words. It was then that Maes noticed Riza standing behind him, ignoring the chair beside Maes’ bed in favor of standing by the window. He noticed her stormy look and gave Roy a look of question.

“I suggested that she stay back at Eastern.”

Maes rolled his eyes. “Why did you go and do a fool thing like that?” he hissed, hoping Riza wasn’t really paying too much attention to them.

“You said it would be dangerous...”

“So? She’s not made of porcelain—she only looks it. It’s not as if she has to stand toe to toe with one of these creatures. Even were she pregnant with triplets, she could kick your ass around the block.”

He heard something that suspiciously sounded like a snicker from Riza’s direction.

Roy tugged at his collar, muttering something about, “she already did,” before continuing. “What else did they tell Edward?”

Hughes shook his head. “Nothing that he cared to share with me. And I doubt he’ll share with you, either, but there’s more, much more. He did slip up and mention a laboratory... somewhere here.” He pointed to a mark on the scrap of map he had in his lap. “Said they told him that he could find what he was looking for there.”

“Obviously a trap.”

“Obviously, but that’s not going to stop Edward.”

“If it has anything to do with getting Alphonse back into his body, he’s willing to do anything,” Riza muttered. “He needs protection.”

“I agree. Do you think Havoc will do?”

“In most circumstances, I would say no,” Roy interjected. “But, these two... their relationship is odd, to say the least.” He snorted. “Edward would stay alive just to prove Havoc wrong about him going somewhere and getting himself killed. And that’s what we need.”

“Speaking of watching someone’s back,” Hughes said, nodding in Riza’s direction. “I think it’s time you get a bit of protection yourself, Riza.”

Riza blinked. “What for?”

He looked at Roy, wondering if the man had a chance to talk to Riza about the information Maes had shared with him. Roy gave a quick shake of his head. Maes sighed explosively, knowing that there was some kind of connection here between this new development, and the other. “While Hakuro was in Eastern, annoying everyone and getting in the way, I was poking around here. Rather, I was having Sheska poke around.”

Riza moved from the window then and sat in the chair. “Go on.”

“She found something very interesting.” He leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. “Have you ever heard of Order 3217?”

Riza blinked. “I heard Hakuro talking to Archer about it right before he left. What is it?”

“It’s an Order by the Fuhrer’s own hand. It’s why Hakuro sent Archer to my Department.” Maes frowned, thinking of the long discussion he was going to have with that bootlicker.

“Seems that there’s some kind of research going on.” He noticed that Riza had stiffened and saw an interesting look in her eyes. “Research involving alchemists and heredity.” He looked over at Roy. “Apparently, someone found the research you presented in your re-assessment very, very interesting. Hakuro got suspicious.”

Riza nodded. “And Doctor Winters asked... quite a few questions on the subject.”

He knew then that Riza’s quick mind had picked up something. “Tell me what you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting twisted, just as Riza is settling into her last month's of pregnancy. You think I would let things go by so smoothly? 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think by commenting here or at my [Tumblr](http://crackalchemist.tumblr.com). You guys rock!
> 
> And no. I can't kill Hughes. I think everyone has done a real good job of that; there's no need for me to add to it.


	44. I'm in the Details with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She looked at Roy, who nodded once. She looked down and explained exactly why Roy had chosen that subject for his research._

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 42: I’m in the Details with the Devil**

**Rating: T**

**_Soundtrack: My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark – Fall Out Boy_ **

 

She looked at Roy, who nodded once. She looked down and explained exactly why Roy had chosen that subject for his research.

Maes was floored. Riza, exhibiting the abilities of an alchemist? Simply because she was carrying one? He listened to all of the medical explanations for the possibility, and then nodded. “It makes sense now. Order 3217 protects women who are carrying the children of State Alchemists.” He looked over at Roy, whose bottom jaw was making good progress toward the floor. “Specifically should one parent be a State Alchemists, because they are a known quantity. Doesn’t matter how the women get pregnant, or who they are.” He looked back at Riza. “It was as if it were expected that this type of... fraternization would go on.”

“Perhaps it did go on freely, long ago,” Riza murmured.

“And that’s why I have that file cabinet full of people who are being protected from discovery. I let Sheska poke through the folders. Each one of them, over the years, had some connection with a State Alchemist. All the way back to the beginning of the institution.” Maes plucked at the blanket. “There was also another disturbing folder inside the drawer. A girl from that town Edward went to... the one with the false prophet.”

“Liore?” Roy asked.

Maes nodded. “You know the Fuhrer sent troops to quell the rebellion that erupted there. Well, a girl was taken... someone Edward has mentioned before.”

Roy nodded. “A young girl who had blindly followed that fake son of a bitch.”

“She was taken. And...” he sighed, even slightly unwilling to say what he was going to say. “She was given to... damn! I can’t believe Hakuro had a hand in this!”

“She was given to Kimblee, wasn’t she?” Riza said.

Maes looked at her. “What makes you say that?”

“He was the only State Alchemist in captivity, so to speak, who would be capable of participating in such... research. You’re mentioning her in relation to this order, and it seems like a difficult thing for you to say, so I’m assuming she was given to that bastard to play with for a while.”

“Until she got pregnant.”

Riza shuddered.

Roy cursed. “I’m assuming that didn’t work, did it?” he growled. “Is that why everyone is so patently ignoring the fact that Riza isn’t naming the father of her child?”

Maes nodded. “Apparently Archer went to the medical facilities a few days ago,” he said. “According to Sheska, he returned looking like a cat who ate every bird in the aviary. He was muttering about the Order, and how it would be perfect to ‘bring someone down’.”

Roy clenched his fist. “Me.”

“Yes, but Hakuro told Archer that the order protected the Alchemist as well,” Riza broke in.

“Actually the only thing a State Alchemist can’t do with impunity is pre-meditated, unsolicited murder,” Maes said. “A State Alchemist can kill with a direct order of the Fuhrer. Why do you think Edward can get away with half of the things he does?” He gave Roy a look. “Or that _you_ don’t get censured more than you do.” 

Roy murmured. “So the fact that you set this whole thing up just worked right into their hands...” His eyes grew stormy. “And Archer thought to use it against me?” The laugh he gave was too nasty by far for Maes’ comfort.

“But what does this have to do with what happened to you all?” Riza wanted to know.

Maes shook his head. “Not sure. However, one of those creatures mentioned something about a laboratory and medical facilities. And warned us all that things were not what they seemed.”

“I hate the sound of that,” Roy said tightly. “Of course you’re going to keep digging?”

“Of course. If Gracia will ever let me out of this room.”

“Be careful.”

“I’ll do my best.” He waved a hand in Roy’s direction. “That’s why I want you to stay out of this, and Riza to have some protection.” He held up his hand again when Riza would have protested. “If Winters is poking around for information from you, and Archer thinks he can find a way to pull Roy down with all of this, I don’t think you’re safe together or apart. And if this is all connected in some crazy way... no way you want to tangle with those things without some back up.” He moved down into the bed, suddenly tired. “Go to my office. Sheska will introduce you to your new aides, Riza.”

“Aides?” She asked.

“Did you forget? You’re a Captain. You’re entitled to at least one aide. And me, being who I am... I managed to get you a second.”

Roy shook his head, laughing. “You should have been called the Alchemist of Insanity,” he told his friend, standing up.

Riza gasped. The two men looked at her. “Wasn’t Doctor Winters Gracia’s doctor?”

Maes saw that piece move on Roy’s mental board and saw the slight frown. He ground his teeth. “Yes.”

That was why he wasn’t going to rest until he found out everything that connected Order 3217, these laboratories, and medical facilities, to those homunculi.

Because Gracia and Elysia were indeed his world. These plotters and schemers had involved their dirty business into his world without him knowing it. And that, he would not tolerate.

]o[

Riza spent the ride to Maes’ office in a dark silence. Roy observed it with trepidation. He didn’t recall a time when he’d made her quite so angry. All he had done was suggest she stay at Eastern while he checked on things in Central. He had no idea what they would have been walking into and he did not intend to let her come to any harm.

After making the suggestion and fully expecting her to comply and take herself to the office, he suddenly felt the urge for a winter coat. She hadn’t spoken to him since the words had left his mouth. She’d glared at him as she dressed and strapped on her shoulder holster. Then she grabbed an umbrella and overcoats and waited, arms crossed near the door. Faced with her implacable will and determination, he really couldn’t argue. Especially when she wouldn’t argue back.

Even now, hours after arriving at Central and checking on everyone involved in the melee, she still hadn’t really directed one comment or word or even a good look in his direction. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Maybe I was wrong to suggest you stay at Eastern,” he finally burst out, all at once.

Riza gave him a frosty look. “Maybe?” that was the first word directed at him after what felt like an eternity. He would have been relieved if it hadn’t made him want to cringe and hide under the car seat.

Riza turned her attention back outside the window. “How long have I been working with you, Colonel?” she asked.

It took him a moment to realize she really wanted an answer. “Um... long enough?”

She turned back to him. “Long enough. Long enough for you to realize that this,” she put a hand on her stomach, “won’t keep me from doing my duty.” She shook her head. “If I had known you would behave so... crazy about this, I wouldn’t have–“

“Don’t say it,” Roy said quickly, afraid of what would come from her mouth.

She sighed. “Colonel... Roy, please. Could you just think before you speak? I know you have a lot on your plate, but if only for the next two months, could you just do that?”

Roy nodded, feeling like a heel. He knew Riza was more than capable. It was just... “I suppose the idea of all of this is finally hitting me,” he said softly. “I feel like I should be doing more for you. It seems like you’re carrying it all by yourself.”

“I am,” Riza said simply. “I will be for the next two more months. But that doesn’t mean I’m an utter invalid. I wish all of you would remember that at the same time.” She sighed and squirmed against the seat. “It’s bad enough that I have strange officers wondering about my abilities. I expect more from my commanding officer.” _And the father of said child_ , she left unsaid.

“I know. I know you’re still here to protect me.” He looked at her, really seeing her. “I just want to do the same for you.”

“The best way to do that is for us to stay together,” she told him. “Employ the practice of safety in numbers. I have very bad feelings about all of this... Edward’s situation, Archer, the doctor...”

“What I have bad feelings about is how Maes could be so blind about it all,” Roy muttered. It did bother him that Maes hadn’t seen at least some of this coming. He’d worked with Doctor Winters for this long, for goodness sake. Why hadn’t the man figured out that woman was up to more than she appeared?

“Despite his obvious intelligence and foresight, Maes Hughes has one key weak spot. His family.”

Roy frowned. “Explain.”

“Who does Maes answer to? The Fuhrer, and no one else, really. The Investigations Division, the Courts, they all answer directly to the Fuhrer. That means that the Fuhrer knows more about Maes than even you do. Bradley is a very smart man; else, he wouldn’t be where he is. He wouldn’t arbitrarily choose anyone to run those departments without knowing everything he needed to know about that person.”

“True.”

“The Fuhrer probably knows exactly what buttons to push to move Maes in the directions that he wants Maes to go. Remember, Doctor Winters treated his wife. The doctor would have delivered his daughter had the weather not interfered.” Riza scratched behind her ear. “They know Maes in as alchemist.”

Roy stared at her. He’d almost forgotten about that.

Riza smiled. “Why wouldn’t they? He never actually conceals the fact that he can perform alchemy. He just doesn’t use his abilities where those who would take advantage of him would see.” She crossed her arms. “Think, Roy. You told me that he failed the alchemy exams.”

Roy groaned. “Yes, he failed. On purpose.”

“When did he take the exam?”

“Right before he was sent to Ishbal.”

“In order to take the exam, he had to display an ability. I wonder who discovered that ability. Did you recommend him?”

“No.”

“Then who do you think recommended him?”

“Shit.”

Riza chuckled. “When it comes to those you care about, you have quite a blind spot yourself, Colonel. I bet if you reach back in your memories, you’ll remember a time when the Fuhrer came and scooped your friend up for a nice, long chat.”

Roy did shove his brain back to that time, and yes, he did remember such a meeting. “But, I refuse to believe that Maes is–,”

“Oh, Maes is probably completely in the dark about a lot of things. For now. Probably allowed to be by the very person who put him where he is.”

Roy stared. “What are you getting at?”

“The same thing you should be getting at, Colonel Mustang. Please apply that amazing intellect for a moment or two.”

Roy leaned back and did the mental gymnastics necessary. And concluded that, obviously, Riza had reached during that dark silence during the beginning of the trip. “This... at least the part about that involves Winters and Archer does stem from–,”

“The top.”

Roy cursed. “I don’t want to believe this. That means that the very people we – you and I – were concealing this from probably know all about it.”

“And all of the measures we employed were unnecessary. They probably were laughing themselves silly watching us.”

There was a dangerous note in Riza’s voice. Roy sympathized. “You know what?” he growled.

“What?”

“I don’t like being made a fool of.”

“I know.”

“You know what else?”

“Hmm?”

“Neither does Maes.”

“Something else.”

Roy met Riza’s stormy eyes, and the things brewing back there that made him very grateful she was on his side of things.

“Neither do I,” she said.

 ]o[

Riza’s new aides came as a pair, borrowed in actuality from Major Armstrong. As soon as she saw them and heard of their qualifications, she knew exactly why Hughes had chosen them.

“What do you know about firearms, Second Lieutenant?”

Maria Ross reminded Riza of herself, in days before. Not in age, rather in the idealism she had when she’d first joined the service. It was quite refreshing to see a pair of eyes completely free of guile.

The young woman saluted. “Sir, I’m more experienced in hand-to-hand combat.” She nodded toward the young man at her side. “He’s the one who is the marksman.”

Riza turned to him. “Certified?”

The young sergeant – introduced to them as Denny Brosch – grinned even as he showed his respect for her rank. “Yes, sir. Two years straight.”

“I’ll meet you at the firing range, then,” Riza smiled.

“Our office is going to be pretty crowded with two additions,” Roy said dubiously.

“Not really, Colonel,” Riza said. “If I call this right, I believe their purpose is to assist me in my duties after I’ve gone on my leave.” She looked at Sheska, who nodded confirmation.

The door opened and Major Archer entered, pausing on the threshold for half a step when he saw them.

Roy stared at the man, wondering how much time he would get for ripping the man’s throat out.

“Stand down, Colonel,” Riza whispered from the side of her mouth.

Archer gave Roy a salute that was technically proper. “Sir, it is good to see you back in uniform again,” he said ingratiatingly. “Investigations can be a terrible business at times.”

Roy merely grunted, not bothering to give the man an answer.

Archer’s smile dimmed slightly before he turned to Riza. “And Captain, I’m betting that you’re glad to have your office back to normal,” he said to her. “I’m told that such stresses are not good for someone in your... delicate condition.”

“Doctor Winters has said as much. She also said that caffeine wasn’t good for me.” Riza’s smile was just short of feral. “It seems I thrive on both.”

“I would expect nothing less from such a competent soldier such as yourself.” He looked around and noted the other two officers. “Ah, I see you’ve met your new aides. Major Armstrong was kind enough to offer them–,”

“Yes, I know,” Riza said, turning back to the two in discussion. “Second Lieutenant, Sergeant, please be ready to leave within the next hour.” She looked back at Archer, whose mouth was still hanging open in mid-word. “If you’ll excuse us, I believe the Colonel did want to spend a few more moments with the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother before we return to our home base.”

Roy made a note to give that woman a medal when they returned to Eastern. A big shiny medal. One that was so gaudy that it would outshine even Armstrong at his most extravagant.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are hanging in; stuff is going to get rough soon! I love to read each of my comments and reviews so keep them coming!


	45. Depends on What You Qualify as Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The sunlight shone through the stained glass onto the dusty wooden floor, highlighting the differences in shading between the spots where the benches used to be and the well-worn portions of what used to be a small, comforting house of worship._

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games Without Frontiers**

**Chapter 43: Depends on What You Qualify as Friends**

**Rating T**

**Soundtrack: I Have Friends in Holy Places – Panic! At the Disco**

 

The sunlight shone through the stained glass onto the dusty wooden floor, highlighting the differences in shading between the spots where the benches used to be and the well-worn portions of what used to be a small, comforting house of worship.

The altar was still in place, the crucifix still hanging freely above it. A woman, beautiful beyond compare, stared up at the wooden carving and gave the decomposing figure hanging from the cross bars a sardonic smile.

“Such a _sacrifice,_ ” she said, her voice thick and sweet like clotted cream. “For what? Where was the equivalence in what you did?” She extended one nail carefully, touched the thorny heart carving in the center of the bony chest. A symbol of a faith that died long, long before any of them were ever born. Just as worthless as the cause for which their sacrifices fought.

“He apparently died for our sins,” came another voice, smooth and unnaturally neutral and mocking in the extreme.

“For us? I’m touched.” She turned to the window on the west wall of the church. Leaning in the windowsill was one of her companions. “So where is our precious little brother?”

“Primping, I’m sure,” said the other, bending one long leg to rest it on the sill. Spiky hair falling over one eye, the young stripling passed the time flipping a shiny golden coin. “Call it. Heads or tails?” The mark on their thigh peeked from under the hem of the tiny skirt they wore.

“What am I calling for?” the woman asked.

The young one shrugged. “Should I be the sext little secretary this time? Or the hot assed driver? I like being the driver. They don’t even notice the difference between me and the real little mongrel.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Tails. That’s how you like it either way.” She rubbed at her upper arms, hating the feel of that sad, pitying look on the carving’s face. “Tch. Where is he?” she asked impatiently.

“Making sure his both epaulets are on straight.”

“At least I care about my appearance,” another voice boomed across the room, ricocheting off the walls.

The one in the window flung their thick hair over one shoulder. “Well, that awful husk you must live in has to be hard to maintain.” They waved a delicately boned hand in the other man’s direction. “Aren’t those things in your eyes terribly uncomfortable?”

The man shrugged a broad shoulder. “Light as air. Amazing what they come up with in that laboratory.” He even took two fingers and gently tugged the colored lens from his eye, revealing the dark violet color beneath.

The other one snorted. “So much trouble to maintain such a façade. I still want to know why you didn’t just let me continue snooping around. I think the Flameboy was actually starting to like the little secretary woman.

The woman closed in on them. “Because you like it too much and you are far better suited for other things. And our Flameboy, as you so delicately call him, is too engrossed in his little bird to pay Miss Celia any mind.”

“Hm. Mousy little thing. Don’t know what he sees in her.”

“Loyalty. Dedication. _Love._ ” The woman turned to the broad-shouldered man and ran a hand down the front of his crisp blue uniform jacket. “Desire...”

The man turned to her. “So tell me, Lust. What did you three think you were doing? You were supposed to corral the Fullmetal Bastard. To move him in our direction. You weren’t supposed to damage him in any way.”

The one in the window answered. “He and his friends got on my nerves.” The other two ignored them.

“Not only did you try to kill the Elric boy, but you almost did away with the Seeker.” The man shook his head, grimacing. “You know that he would be very angry if the Seeker was harmed.”

“Please,” Lust said. “He’s a lost cause.”

“Too obsessed with his precious little family,” the one in the window said. They finally leapt down from their perch and joined the others. “You should have seen him. Almost wet himself when I changed into his little daughter to do him in.”

“He’s an ace in the hole. You are not to harm any of them,” the broad-shouldered man snapped. “Not the Seeker, nor the Elric boy, nor anyone attached to them.” He looked at the others for acquiescence. He was the representative of their leader, and as such, expected no less than obeisance. “Envy? You understand what I’m saying, right? It is because of your actions that we’ve had to back off these past two months.”

Envy twitched his skirt back into place and shrugged. “I got you. I still don’t see why all the subterfuge. Why can’t we just take the Seeker and make him find what we want?”

“Because he doesn’t work that way, and you know it,” Lust said. “He needs to have some of the substance of what he seeks. Some of the _real_ substance. Do you want to let him borrow yours?”

“He asks too many questions,” the broad-shouldered man grumbled, pulling at his uniform collar. He hated the damned thing, but it was necessary. “The Fullmetal Bastard has made mention of the three of you, and now that he’s seen you, he’s poking in places he shouldn’t be poking.”

“Ooh, that sounds terribly naughty,” Envy said. “And he’s a married man, too.”

Lust rolled her eyes. “So, Pride, has our plan changed?”

Pride shook his head. “No. Wrath has said that everything remains the same. If Edward Elric doesn’t find what we want on his own, we lead him. If that doesn’t work, we allow the Seeker to find what he wants to find.” His lip curled. “Use that little ungifted brat of his to make him give us what we want.”

“What about Flameboy and his soon-to-be spawn? Is _it_ what it was hoped to be?” Envy asked.

“It is believed so, but the bitch who carries it is uncommonly tight-lipped.” Pride clenched a fist, thinking about his last encounter with that woman. “Stupid little self-important vessel.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Lust said soothingly, running a hand down Pride’s arm, calming him in exactly the way he wanted. “She’s due when?”

“Any day.” Pride said. “And when it comes, we won’t have to wait very long.”

“If it is what we hoped it will be.”

Finally, the last person in the room spoke. A whine punctuated his first words, and a strange, sucking sound punctuated his last.

“If it’s not, can I eat it? Please?”

Envy chuckled and threw the coin up one more time. “Well? Heads or tails?”

]o[

There was a foot lodged somewhere around her lung area. A tiny, but very obtrusive little foot. Jammed right under the last rib on her right side, heading right toward her lung. Riza took her hand and gave it a little push, hoping to dislodge it so that she could breathe freely.

No luck. Apparently, this child was as stubborn as the father was. She sighed and moved the completed files to the chair beside her desk. Taking a sip from the coffee cup, she opened the last file and pretended that she was thoroughly interested in the printed words on the sheets. What she was more interested in was her feet, which were begging to be released from those sensible shoes. And that interfering little foot.

“Well, would you look at this,” she heard the Colonel murmur. She looked up to see him opening a red courier envelope. He read the documents inside with an uncommon interest, then gave a curious half-laugh and looked over at her. “Tell me, Captain. How would you like to spend your last days before your leave assisting me in tracking down a new alchemist with... uncommon potential?”

“Sir?”

“In a little town east of here. Called...” he peered at the paper again. “Geisa.” He shook his head. “Never heard of that town. In any case, those on high want us to investigate reports of an alchemist practicing in this town who has an uncommon potential. If reports are true, I’m to offer this person a chance to take the exam.”

“When are we supposed to leave?” Riza asked, beginning to warm to the idea of leaving the stuffy office for a few days.

“Tomorrow, of course.” He folded the sheet and tucked it back into the envelope. “Fuery, check on schedules for me. I think I want to leave early this time.” The Colonel leaned back and stretched expansively. “I need a few days out of this bedlam we call an office. If I sign one more folder, my hand will fall off.”

“We can’t have that, now, can we, sir?” Riza said, flipping pages in her folder. She stamped a few, and then flipped it closed and handed it over. “Here’s one more. And, no I can’t affix your seal.”

It was an interesting feeling not to have to get up too often anymore. In the length of time it took for her to shift from her chair, everyone in the room could make it to her desk and back. He tugged the folder from her and looked it over. “These budget allocations are killing me. Can’t Edward learn how to conserve expenses? He spends his monthly budget and my monthly budget in one week!”

“The boy has needs,” Riza said with a half-smile.

“The boy eats too damned much.”

“He’s still growing.”

“He’ll always be growing,” Roy grunted, “and he needs to lay off the jewelry purchases. He bought _two_ silver chains this time! I do believe Winry has enough silver to start her own mine. Maybe we should just have Winry invoice us separately.”

Riza chuckled. “He does take care of Alphonse as well.”

“Well... then I suppose we need to allocate a bit more for him to use. Just so it doesn’t look like we’re throwing wild parties every week. Someone is bound to start bitching about the amount of money that flows from Eastern.” He looked up at the clock. “At last!” He signed the file with a flourish and tossed it back onto her desk. “Free at last!” He grabbed up his overcoat and looked over his shoulder on the way out. “Captain, will you get the car?”

Riza smirked. “I thought I’d given up that duty with my promotion, sir.”

“Are you kidding? The rest of these loons would drive me into a wall before they got me home.” He held up his hand when the others would protest his claim. “Until you are finally transferred, Captain, you will have that privileged duty of making sure I reach my destinations in one piece.”

“I feel so honored,” Riza muttered under her breath.

“What was that, Captain?”

“I said it is my honor, sir.”

“Thought so.”

She watched with amusement as he climbed into the back of the sedan. She got in, adjusted her seat to accommodate her onboard guest and started the car. “How long will we be in this town, sir?”

“Don’t know.” He grinned and stretched. “I’ll flip a coin when we get there. But, I would bring provisions for about two weeks.” As she looked the rear view mirror, he explained. “I think it’ll take about that long to fish him out.”

“You lie. You’re giving yourself an extra vacation. As soon as you arrive, the whole town will be dying to tell you where their treasure is.”

“Not if I’m not in uniform, they won’t.”

Riza frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t I mention? Bring plain clothes, Captain Hawkeye. I don’t feel like dealing with the insanity that always follows when we arrive in full uniform. Besides, if we’re not in uniform, the townsfolk won’t be tempted to overcharge us. And I’m sure you’re mighty tired of the sensible shoes, no?”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop reading my mind, sir. And I still think you’re trying to sneak yourself in a vacation.”

“Bite your tongue.”

Right then, Riza had a feeling that Roy was in the midst of a plot of some kind. She had the first inkling when she spotted the smirk and the way he looked out of the window, whistling innocently. And when he turned back to her and said, “What,” she knew without doubt he was planning something that had very little to do with finding the budding new alchemist in the city of Geisa.

Normally, as soon as the train started moving, Riza would have begun to doze off. This time, however, she had no such inclination. No, her mind was working, trying to figure out what Roy was thinking behind that placid look. She hated that look. It told her better than anything did that the Colonel was up to something, but it was wholly unreadable. It was worse that he actually looked like he was working as they moved along. He had a folder on his lap, which he was perusing very carefully, jotting notes here and there. Then, as she watched, half-amazed, he put the tip of the pen to his mouth and looked thoughtfully out of the window.

“I know this may be a preposterous question,” she asked, “but is that... work? Did you actually bring work with you?”

“Hmm?” She’d jolted him out of his thought and he started. “Oh, this? Just some... research. Yes, research.”

If she believed that, then she believed that cows jumped over the moon. “Ah.” She gave up trying to pry information out of him and stared out of the window on her side of the private car. The countryside was a monotonous blur of trees and sky and it wasn’t long before her eyes finally grew heavy.

She woke all at once, stretched out on her seat on her side of the car. She groaned, her body stiff and looked over at where Roy had been sitting. He wasn’t there. Then she registered that her head hadn’t been laying on the padded leather seat. She looked up and saw Roy smiling down at her. “We’re here,” he said.

Riza sat up and looked out of the window. Indeed, they were closing in on a small-town train station. “What? I just closed my eyes for a second!”

“Actually, you slept for a while,” Roy told her as he stood up and reached into the overhead compartment. He pulled down the small bags they had packed to carry on for the journey just as the train slowed. The conductor called out the name of the station and they prepared to disembark. Riza smoothed down her shirt and re-twined her hair back into its clip.

The station vaguely reminded Riza of Risembool, and she wondered how Edward and Alphonse were doing. They’d decided to pursue the lead of the hidden laboratory in Central, against the wishes of everyone who knew them. Though she hadn’t heard it personally, she’d learned that the argument between Edward and Jean was particularly heated and after, the two of them exhausted and drained. Nevertheless, Edward had left anyway, and Jean had returned to Eastern and no one was brave enough to ask Jean what had happened. Riza was grateful that Jean had taken his smoking outside, particularly because he’d tripled his consumption. All Riza could do was offer up a prayer that the two Elric brothers stayed safe and came home in one piece – or in enough pieces for Jean to put them back together.

She was so lost in her thought that it wasn’t until they were in the hired taxicab and headed away from the station that she noticed that the buildings of the city proper were receding in the back window rather than getting closer in the front window. She looked out of the window and saw more countryside than she expected to see. She looked over at Roy. “Isn’t Geisa that way?”

Roy looked up from that blasted folder again. “Yes, it is. However, arrangements for our lodgings are this way.”

“Arrangements?” Riza asked. She hadn’t remembered hearing him mentioning arrangements for lodging.

He patted his jacket. “In our orders.”

“Can I see those?” Riza asked.

He blinked at her. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked, all innocence, and then smiled. “Oh, look we’re here.”

Sure enough, the car was slowing in front of a tiny house. As soon as the car halted, Roy gave the driver a fare, and jumped out of the car, looking for the entire world like a ten-year-old boy on holiday. Riza leaned against the seat for a moment, counting to ten. She reached four before he turned with wide eyes and helped her from the car, all apologies.

Riza looked at the house in front of her, intrigued. She placed one foot on the front step and heard the creak beneath her feet. She looked closer. The scent of new wood surrounded her as she followed Roy through the front door.

It was furnished, simply so, but it was... incomplete. There was nothing within to indicate that anyone had ever actually occupied the house. Even the houses used for temporary lodgings still had the worn, lived-in look. She ran her hand over the table situated next to the kitchen. This house looked brand-new.

Roy wandered off through the door, whistling and more cheerful than she had seen him in quite some time. She followed him into the kitchen. Here was where Riza received her confirmation that the house was new; none of the appliances looked used, the stove was sparkling and shining as if it had been unwrapped and installed the day before. There was even a fresh pile of wood beside it, stacked neatly. It was a large kitchen, large enough for table to fit in the center. It was here Roy was seated; with the red courier envelope spread out in front him. He was flipping through the papers, and–Riza blinked–humming!

“Roy?” 

“Hmm?” he answered without looking up.

“Where exactly are we?”

He looked at her then. “Geisa. I told you–,”

“No. What’s with this house?” Riza walked the perimeter of the kitchen running a hand over the appliances as she passed them. “This is a new house. Looks like it was built yesterday. New stove, new sink–,” she stomped experimentally on the floor. “New floorboards.” She stopped in front of him with her arms crossed. “What’s going on, Roy? And don’t give me that insipid smile. It doesn’t suit you and it isn’t working.”

By the time she’d finished with her questioning, he was pulling at the collar of his shirt and looking decidedly uncomfortable. He fished out his pocket watch and looked at it. Now Riza knew there was something afoot. Roy never contemplated his pocket watch, much less to look at the time. She moved her hands to her hips and waited for an explanation.

“Is anyone home?”

Riza turned toward the familiar voice. Eyes narrowed, she looked back at Roy, who had an extremely relieved look on his face. He rose from the table, scooped up the papers (with a cautious look in her direction) and sidled past her into the other room.

“You made it!” Roy sounded as if Maes was his savior in shining armor. Riza sighed, knowing an explanation would have to wait, and followed him.

Sure enough, the two of them had their heads bent together; sharing something they obviously didn’t want her to know about. Her patience, not a hearty thing these days, was seriously wearing thin. She moved into what was obviously a great room and sat on the new couch, waiting.

“Riza.”

She turned toward the two of them with a look that probably would have peeled fresh plaster from the walls. They both winced and looked at each other.

“Riza, don’t be angry. Maes is here because we wanted to do some looking into the situation at hand in relative privacy, without prying eyes.”

“Is there really an alchemist here?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, there really is,” Roy told her, handing the papers to Maes as he crossed behind to seat himself on the couch next to Riza. “We’re just using this mission to kill two birds with one stone, as it were.”

She gave him a suspicious look. After a moment, and noticing he wasn’t wavering, she nodded. “All right. Why couldn’t you just tell me that?”

“Didn’t want to worry you. Now, don’t give me that look! I know you’re not an invalid. But, you are close to your time, and even I know that you shouldn’t stress a woman this close.”

Riza sighed explosively. “Fine.” She allowed that he was right and was, as usual, thinking beyond the next step in front of him. She looked over at Maes, who gave her a weak half-smile. “I still think the two of you are up to no good, but I’m too tired to get into this now.” She stood. “Tell me where the nearest bedroom is.”

]o[

She woke to abnormally dark room. She heard rain slash against the window and looked over at the window. Even from where she was, she could tell it was raining buckets. Lovely. Roy in a strange mood was one thing. Roy in a strange mood and grouchy because of the rain was quite another. She contemplated staying in the room for the rest of the evening. Afternoon? Then her stomach grumbled. She wondered if the geniuses up front managed to have the kitchen stocked with edible food.

They were still muttering to each other over papers strewn across the floor. They looked just like two schoolchildren going over lessons for the night. She shook her head and moved to the kitchen. After an exploratory reconnaissance, she found the bag of coffee and a loaf of fresh bread and cheese. When the water was ready and her cup full, she took it with the plate back to the front room to eavesdrop on their investigations.

Maes was showing Roy a pile of papers. “There were files in that cabinet that went back to when the Fuhrer took power. About six years after that, the first file involving a State Alchemist appears.” He pointed to something that Roy looked at closer. “Notice the attending doctor.”

Roy read for a moment then looked at Maes, with an amazed look on his face. “Winters? Are you sure about this?”

Riza almost choked on her coffee.

“Are you sure Sheska didn’t copy this wrong?” Roy was asking.

Maes shook his head. “Sheska never makes a mistake. She’s frightening that way. Although I’m sure she wanted to kill me when I laid this stack on her desk and asked her to copy it without Archer finding out.”

“But that was almost thirty years ago!” Roy exclaimed. He looked over at Riza. “Winters doesn’t look that old, does she?”

“Winters looks a barely older than I do,” Riza told them, savoring the tang of the cheese on her tongue.

“So, how can she be the doctor present at all of these births?”

“That’s what has me wondering...”

Thunder boomed, almost shaking the small house, and startling them all. Riza cursed as she spilled coffee in her lap. Cursing softly, she stood and moved back to the bedroom, fully intending to change her clothes into something more comfortable and less stained.

A minute or two after she stepped over the threshold, she realized that all plans were tentative when you were a pregnant woman close to her time.

Lightning illuminated the room, followed by another monstrous crack of thunder. She made it to the window and tried to look out. All she could see were sheets and sheets of water pouring down the pane. Frowning, she sat on the bed and considered her options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. On our way, I guess?   
> Thanks for reading and reviewing and handing out the kudos; it's the fuel to my fire!
> 
> Note: Yes, I know that Christianity did not really exist in the FMA universe, but fanfic+artistic license+pretty imagery=there you go.
> 
> C ya next chapter!


	46. Sunshine after the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sometimes, Riza wondered just how the man managed to become a State Alchemist. Surely, the examination was more complicated than what she was trying to tell him. Perhaps if she drew an array and transmuted some sense into his head... “Why don’t you go and find out if that doctor is within walking distance, Roy? We’re going to need him or her soon.”_

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 44: Sunshine after the Rain**

**Rating T**

**Soundtrack: Because of You – 98 Degrees**

 

She knew what to watch for, the various symptomatic things that would tell her that her long wait was finished. That interesting... pain in her back, that she actually felt all morning but ignored, was one of them. As soon as she entered the bedroom, it returned with a vengeance that made her pay for her ill attention.

After a few, long moments of nothing happening, she got up to change her clothes. She dug through her luggage, found a comfortable pair of pants and shirt, and put them on.

It hit her again, this time racing left to right across her lower back in time with the lightning that raced across the sky. She found her way back to the bed and sat down, amazed by the intensity and suddenness of the pain. When it subsided, she stood and looked at the door with no small amount of trepidation.

As she stepped back into the front room, she prayed she could make it to the couch without the pain hitting her again. Gratefully, she lowered herself into the couch, and only then called Roy’s name.

“Hmm?” He answered without looking up.

“This lovely little town... I’m sure it has a doctor, right?”

“I’m sure it does... why?”

Riza stared at the back of his head, half wanting to laugh at his obtuseness, half wanting to crown him with the butt of her gun. “I certainly hope that doctor is within walking distance of this... lovely house.”

Maes looked up, even as Roy grunted something non-committal. Certainly, he recognized the slight hesitation in her voice, because his eyes widened and he stood, scattering papers everywhere. Roy frowned and looked up at his friend, probably wondering what in hell was wrong with him.

Maes was staring at her as if she were growing several heads at one time and backed toward the door. Riza would have laughed at him, but another pain laced through her back and this time squeezing and pulling all of the muscles around her stomach. Maes actually twitched in response. Only then did Roy turn to her, questions in his gaze.

“What did you say about a doctor, Riza?” he asked.

Oh, yes, the butt of her gun would do. “I said that I certainly hope that this doctor is within walking distance of this lovely house.”

“Why?”

Sometimes, Riza wondered just how the man managed to become a State Alchemist. Surely, the examination was more complicated than what she was trying to tell him. Perhaps if she drew an array and transmuted some sense into his head... “Why don’t you go and find out if that doctor is within walking distance, Roy? We’re going to need him or her soon.”

“No, no, you stay here... I’ll do it!” Maes exclaimed, and dashed right out the front door, grabbing his overcoat in the process.

With the slamming of the door, realization hit Roy. His eyes grew as wide as saucers and those capable, talented hands began to tremble.

Riza did laugh this time.

]o[

She was laughing. Roy wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Her laughter like this, free and unfettered, was a rare thing to see. But, he really didn’t have time to think on that. Because, if he’d heard right, the baby was finally on the way.

Maes was a flat leaver. A stone cold flat leaver, who had run straight out into the stormy night as if his ass was on fire. Roy had to remember to thank his friend the next time he saw him. By maybe setting his ass on fire. With a boot to the ass. Unless, of course, he’d really gone to find a doctor, or _someone_ qualified to help deliver this baby. Despite all of his impeccable training, military and alchemical, delivering a baby was nowhere near the top of his list.

“Roy.”

He jumped at the sound, and then composed himself. As much as he would like to, he couldn’t sit there in the middle of the floor and babble to himself about inconsequential things. Strength, that’s what she needed right now. She needed him to be strong and even-tempered, in full command of the situation at hand.

“Roy.”

He looked over at Riza. She looked so calm sitting there, hands folded over her stomach. Over _their_ baby. _So serene_. It was hard to believe that she was about to bring another life into the world. A life that he helped to make. She was about to do something that no man could ever do. It was a miracle, that’s what it was, a miracle.

“Roy.”

“What?” Riza gave him a look and he felt immediately contrite for his sharp answer. He picked himself up off the floor and went to her, sat on the couch beside her and took her hand. “I’m sorry, Riza,” he said in a much calmer voice. “What is it?”

Riza’s eyebrow arched. She looked down at her hand. He followed and realized he was patting her hand in a manner that was probably annoying the hell out of her. He put her hand down.

“Is Maes really going to find a doctor?” she asked calmly, and then gave a little wince that made him want to run screaming from the room.

“Well...” Roy thought about it for a moment. It would certainly be interesting if Maes did find a doctor and bring that doctor back here. Hopefully, his friend would think about that while he was running around the streets. “I...well, about that–,”

“Don’t tell me that you brought me to a town in the middle of nowhere–due any day–and don’t know where a doctor is. Or if a doctor is even in the town.”

Roy flushed. “That’s not exactly the problem–,”

“Well, it’s a good thing that we have some time for you to explain that.”

He cleared his throat. “Um...well...” He really hadn’t meant to tell her all of this in these circumstances, but she was sitting there, expecting an explanation, and there was no way he would do anything to thwart this woman right now. However, he could make the telling easier for her. He jumped up. “Do you need to lay down? I mean, I don’t know anything about–,”

“No.”

He blinked at the strength of that denial and looked closer at her. She was pale. And perhaps her hands weren’t just laying calm in her lap. It actually looked as if her nails were digging into her palms. And she was sitting very still and straight. He frowned. “Are you sure, Riza? I mean, I know women usually need to be laying down for this kind of thing–,”

“I said no. I don’t want to be in a bed right now,” she told him. “I’ve got quite some time to go before... just, no.”

Roy didn’t believe her. Never had she actually told him a lie in her entire time with him, but he knew that she wasn’t exactly telling the truth right then. She was in pain. He recognized the look, and she had to know he would recognize it. “Riza...”

She stood suddenly, quicker than he’d expected her to stand. “You know what?” She said sharply. “You decide how you’re going to explain where the hell we are while I take a look around.” And she turned toward the back of the house, heading towards the bedrooms, lined up so nicely back there.

Roy was at a loss. He looked around, hoping that something would jump out of the walls to tell him what to do. He bent down and picked up the papers, and laid them neatly on the couch. Dammit, he was a Colonel of the Amestris Armed Forces. He’d coordinated maneuvers for just about every occasion. He was a strategist par excellence. Why couldn’t he work his mind around this situation?

One thing was in the front of his mind. He had to tell her. But this was neither the time nor the place to do so. However, if he didn’t tell her now, and waited until after, she would think he was manipulating her, setting her up so that she wouldn’t be able to do anything about his decision.

“Roy Mustang. Come here. Right now.”

He closed his eyes, remembering what was in one of those rooms. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Maybe she wouldn’t kill him if he used that as an introduction to the rest of the tale.

]o[

Maes headed straight back to his house. He made no detours, no stops to find a doctor, nothing. He couldn’t. One look out of his back window told him that he was being followed, and it would be the better part of intelligent if he just went home and figured out what to do from there.

He pulled the wet overcoat tighter around him as he raced into his home, hoping the weather would finally chase this person tailing him to drier ground. Gracia was standing in the front room, staring at him in mild surprise.

“I thought you were staying at the house for a while–,”

“It’s Riza,” he told her by way of greeting. “She’s–,”

“I thought so.” Gracia said, turning toward the large basket laying on the couch. “As soon as I saw the headlights, I knew something was wrong. “ What did she look like when you left her?”

“Like she was in pain and wanted to knock the hell out of Roy for not noticing.”

Gracia shook her head. “Let me finish with this basket and we can go.”

Maes blinked at his wife. “What do you mean go? Go where?”

“Well, you can’t very well go and get Doctor Winters, now can you?” Gracia said it with that no-nonsense voice. “And if you get any other doctors, someone is bound to figure out something is going on in that house up on the hill.” She stopped for a moment and gave Maes a look. “Did he tell her yet?”

Maes shook his head. “He didn’t have the time. She–it started right after I got there.”

“He’d better tell her soon. She won’t like to hear these plans after she’s stuck in a bed, recovering and not able to do anything about it.”

“She can’t do anything about it now.”

“Yes, but at least now she’ll feel more in control of the situation. Don’t you men ever think?”

“It’s for her own good.” Maes went to his wife and put his hands on her shoulders, turned her so that she was looking up at him. “And for yours.”

She shrugged him off. “I know it’s best that I don’t know everything,” she muttered, folding white linens and placing them into the basket. “But I haven’t been protecting the back of our future Fuhrer for the past six or seven years. You understand that’s been her entire life?”

Maes nodded, and then looked upstairs. “Elysia–,”

“My mother has her. Remember? You mentioned that you wanted me to have Mother take her for the weekend?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Maes flushed, remembering his plans for his wife for the weekend. Well, that might not be possible now.

Gracia chuckled. “Don’t worry, dear. We can take care of... that... when all of this is over.” She leaned up and put a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be waiting.”

Now he was flushing for an entirely different reason.

She grinned and patted his arm. “Help me with this and tell me what the house looks like. I can’t imagine what she’s going to say when she finds out...”

]o[

Roy walked up behind her, looking around the room for the first time himself. It was furnished just as he’d requested. A soft rug lay on the floor, so that she could sit there and play with the baby. Just next to the window saw the beautifully-crafted rocking chair he’d paid a fortune for, the amount of which was second only to the centerpiece of the room, the thing Riza was currently staring at it all in shock.

He put his hands around her waist and pulled her back against him, part to whisper in her ear, and part to keep her as immobile as possible, so she wouldn’t clout him in the head for what he was about to tell her. “Do you like it?” he said.

He felt her tense, and felt her put her hands on his. Beneath his fingers, he felt her belly suddenly harden, as if all the muscles had clenched at once. He gasped, wondering how she was still standing after that.

“What... what have you done, Roy?” she asked, amazement lacing her voice. “Tell me now.”

He sighed, and leaned his chin on her shoulder. “Well, ever since you told me about the baby, I’ve been thinking that neither your house nor mine is a good place to raise a child.” He felt her tense again, and waited, feeling for that same sensation under his fingers. As it wasn’t there, he assumed that the reaction was still shock.

“Wait,” she said, turning slightly in his arms. “Are you telling me that you... had this house built? Without me knowing? How?”

Roy smirked and moved away from her, further into the room. “I don’t know. And, yes, I had the house built.”

“But... but... I don’t understand,” Riza was shaking her head and staring at him. “How could you do this without anyone knowing? And why would you build a house here, in the middle of nowhere?” She narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t particularly practical or smart, Roy.”

He looked down and shuffled his feet, rubbed at the back of his head. “Well. About that. Um. We’re not exactly in the middle of nowhere.”

She blinked. “What?” She actually managed to put her hands on her hips in a more familiar pose.

“Um. Yeah. Well.” He winced. “We’re actually not where I told you we were.” He held up a hand. “I mean, yes, we’re in a town called Geisa. But... Geisa is not east of home base. Well, it is but…” He looked back down at his feet and mumbled, “It’s more like an hour east of Central.”

There was silence that caused a chill to trip down his back. He looked up at the amazed look on her face. He gave her a weak smile.

“East of Central?” She exclaimed and gave that wince again that told her she was feeling another pain. Roy didn’t like that. He wanted her to lay down. “Why did you lie about where we were going?”

“I didn’t lie!” Roy exclaimed, mildly insulted. “I told you we were going to Geisa.” Riza pursed her lips. Okay, so she didn’t buy that. “Okay, so I didn’t tell you everything. But there’s a good reason.”

“And that is?”

Roy sighed. “Maybe you might want to...” he almost said _lay down_ , but changed at the last minute, “get comfortable.” He reached out and took her hand. “Come.”

“I told you I don’t want to be stuck in bed yet,” she said sharply. “And, Roy, you’d better explain–,”

“I will if you come with me.” He quickly moved to the linen closet, hoping it was stocked as he’d requested. Yes, it had. He yanked out a few quilts and reached up in the top shelf for the extra pillows. “Come on. I promise I won’t put you in a bed.”

She followed him, dubious, as he moved back into the front room. Spreading the quilts and pillows on the floor, he made a nice, comfortable nest. Looking around, hoping she didn’t think him completely insane, he moved to his overcoat and yanked out a glove. He smiled at her confusion as he moved to the fireplace. With a snap and flick, he had a fire crackling warmly. He arranged the grate, then turned and held out his other hand to her. “Come on.”

She looked suspiciously at the nest he’d made. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get up off the floor if I go there,” she told him.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you. Come on.”

She took his hand, and let him help her into the pile of quilts and pillows. He wrapped himself around her as best as he could, satisfied. There. Now he could tell her and hold her immobile at the same time, and perhaps get the whole thing out before she killed him and made the whole thing completely moot.

“Now,” she said, squirming a bit. “Tell me. Straight. No more games, Roy. Right now, damn it.”

“Fine.” He played with a loose thread. “After all this time, it’s actually hard to say the words.”

“Just say it. Does it have to do with this house? And why it’s where it is? Because I can’t think of a good reason that you would build a house so far away from Eastern unless you had a good reason.”

He wrapped his arms around her as far as they would go. “I’m going to... do it.”

“Do it? Do what? Roy, please, I don’t have much time to play word games with you–,”

“I’m making my move. Now.”

Riza became utterly still in his arms.

“Maes and I have been poking around these past few months... and... there’s no other way to stop whatever these people are planning,” he continued. “I have to make my move. Now, or not at all.”

“But–,”

“And I had this house put here because I want...” he swallowed, knowing that this was the thing he’d been most dreading to say. “ I want to make sure you two are safe. You and the baby.”

“Roy, I–,”

“No, let me finish. There are plans going on in the higher parts of government. We can’t put our fingers on everything, but I can tell you that it’s not good. And it is connected to these... creatures that Edward keeps meeting. Maes knows more than me, but he won’t tell me everything.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s to keep me safe. Keep my goal pure, so to speak.” He felt that telltale tightening of Riza’s muscles again. “Are you sure you’re–,”

“Tell me the rest or I’ll kill you right here and have this baby without you.”

“Winter and Archer... and perhaps Bradley... they’re plotting to do something with our child. With or without our consent. I can’t let that happen. I have to move now.”

“Let me... make sure I’ve got you right. You’re going to make your play. Now?”

“Within the next month. Well, maybe longer now.”

“And you put me up in this house for what reason?”

He stared at the back of her head. “Riza. You can’t... you can’t possibly think that you... I need to keep you safe.”

“I’m supposed to be at your back, Mustang,” she said around a gasp that she couldn’t quite hide from him.

Roy looked up at the ceiling, hoping that help would come soon. He didn’t like what he was feeling beneath his fingers, and he didn’t like the way Riza was trying to conceal her obvious pain.

He had another vision of how this was supposed to go, and this was not the vision. Not at all. He hoped this wasn’t an omen for the next few weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness! I think my writer's drought is over! Thanks for hanging in there for me! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Baby's almost here! Do you have a guess on what it will be?


	47. Beautiful Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m never going to touch her again, Maes,” Roy promised, weaving on his feet. He looked over at Maes, who was holding an empty scotch bottle and staring at his feet. “You hear me? Never.”_

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 45: Beautiful Surprise**

**Rating T**

**Soundtrack: Beautiful Surprise – India.Arie**

 

Okay, it was time for some subterfuge, Roy thought. He was a military man, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he learned in the ways of strategy? He could tell that the conversation was taking a turn that it didn’t need to take at this point, not with Riza in the throes of labor. However, if he didn’t steer it elsewhere, she would worry about it until she did herself harm.

“You _will_ be at my back, Hawkeye,” he told her, congratulating himself on the level of calm in his voice. He could feel the contractions beneath his hand, so he knew that they had to be painful in the extreme. “But, I don’t believe we should be talking about these things right now.”

Riza was silent. Roy couldn’t see her face, but he could tell what she had to be doing. “Fine,” she finally said. “But don’t think I’m going to forget. After... after this,” she said the last through gritted teeth, “we are going to discuss this... _move_ of yours.”

“Agreed.” Roy unclipped her hair for her and ran his fingers through it. Yes, she _had_ to be having a hard time if she just let him unclip her hair. “Now. Are you getting tired of being the big, brave Captain?”

She turned her head to look at him. “What?” She said.

Roy kept the surprise inside. He’d seen the look on her face before. Her face was flushed, her lips compressed, tight. Her eyes had a brightness to them that he really didn’t like. Yes, he’d seen that look before. On a battlefield.

He took a deep breath. “Riza. It’s just the two of us here. There is no need for you to keep whatever you’re feeling inside.”

“I’m fine. This is something that multitudes of women have endured throughout the ages.” She nodded, as if to herself. “I can do this.”

Damn, but the woman was mutinous! “Look! No, _look_ at me!” When she turned back, he took her chin in his hand. “This is not your commanding officer you’re talking to, Riza.” He kept his voice level, almost stern. “This is your lover, the father of this child. Now, if you don’t stop being a militant hard-head, I’m going to think you don’t trust me and take that as an insult of the highest order.”

She stared at him for so long, he wondered if she even heard him. Then, suddenly, he felt her whole body... loosen, like the bands of tension holding her tight suddenly went limp. Then, with his arms around her, he could feel the deep tremble, the one that always accompanied Riza when she felt something deep inside of her. “Roy... damn it, I’m scared.”

“Of course you’re scared,” he told her. “I suppose I would be terrified. I may not be able to empathize, but still... tell me.”

“I’m afraid that no one is going to come–no doctor, no one–and we’re going to have to deliver this baby ourselves, and I’m positive right now that I won’t be able to do that, and–hell, Roy–how in the hell is a baby _this big_ going to come out? I know how physics work, Roy. There’s something they must not be telling us about this kind of--,”

Roy paled as the image of that stupendous event crossed his mind. _Maes, you’d better get your ass here with some help and now._ “Look, the two of us have had military training. That included some rudimentary medical–,”

“Yes, Roy, I can stitch up a wound nice and tight if I have to,” Riza said sarcastically. “I can also amputate a limb if need be, and tie a tourniquet when circumstances warrant. But did _your_ military training include delivering a baby on the battlefield?”

“Um... no.”

“Then, _shut up_.”

Roy contemplated doing just that for a moment; after all, he had heard that it was the better part of valor to obey the command of a woman in labor, but he had to try once more to get her calmed. “I _do_ know that you have a way to go with this,” he said, again in the same voice he would use to calm a hysterical soldier. “Babies don’t just pop out in two or three hours–,”

“Thanks for the reminder, Colonel,” Riza spat, sarcasm thick in her trembling voice.

“What I’m trying to say is... perhaps between pains you could...” he shrugged. “ Rest.” He started to rub her temples, the only thing he could think of. “Close your eyes. Conserve your strength. Help is going to come soon, I promise. It’s warm here, and there really is nothing else we can do but... wait.” He felt her relax, albeit only minutely, and continued. “You’re the one who needs to keep hold of as much endurance as you can.”

He could actually hear her thinking about it. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I hate when you’re right. Time my pains.”

Roy smiled, squirmed in his pocket for his watch, and then made himself comfortable.

She surprisingly managed to doze between serious contractions. By the time her pains were exactly seven minutes apart, he started getting nervous himself, a few hours passed, and they both managed quick catnaps. He had no way of knowing if that was a good thing or not, but he really wanted help to come and to come now.

“Maes has left us high and dry,” Riza said in a sleepy voice. “You know that? Your buddy choked. Bloomed like a dandelion and floated away. He isn’t coming back, is he?”

“Hush, Riza. He’ll be here.” If he didn’t show up, Roy would make sure that he wouldn’t have the ability to sire another child again.

Some higher power who had a need for Maes Hughes to continue his plan of procreation must have heard him, for the next thing that came to his ears was the sound of urgent banging on the door. Gently untangling himself from around Riza, he propped her up as best as he could with pillows and moved toward the door. “Who is it?” he yelled.

“Who the hell do you think it is, stupid?” came Maes’ muffled voice.

Roy snatched open the door and stood there looking at the Hughes’, never more happy to see two people in his entire life.

“Thought we’d pop by for dinner, folks!” Maes said in a bright voice, pushing Roy out of his way and making room for Gracia to precede him into the house. “Yes, I know the weather is terrible, but Gracia just baked this wonderful pie and...” As the door shut, he leaned against it and heaved a sigh of relief.

“Were you followed?” Roy asked, watching Gracia move into the front room, large basket in both hands.

“I was on the way home, but not now, not in this foul weather,” Maes said. “Never can be sure, though,” He looked around his friend at the woman bundled in front of the fire, then back at Roy. “How is she?” He mouthed.

“Okay for now,” Roy mouthed back. “Probably better now that you two are here.” The two of them watched Gracia kneel beside Riza, and tried as hard as they could to hear what she was saying to her. Unsuccessful, they moved closer, cautiously.

Gracia turned back to them. “How far apart are her pains, Roy?” She asked in a business-like voice.

Roy started, and then looked at his watch. “Ah, last time I checked, they were seven minutes apart.”

Gracia nodded. “She needs to be moved to a bed.” She looked around the house. “Very nice,” she commented. “You have a third bedroom, of course?”

“Of course.”

“Right. Take her there.” When they stood there staring, she clapped her hands. “Now. Move it.”

Roy and Maes snapped into action and got Riza to the other room quickly and gently. When she was reluctantly situated in the bed, Gracia pointed at the door. “Now, out. Both of you.”

“Ah, no offense, Gracia,” Roy said carefully. “But, do you actually know how to deliver a baby?”

Gracia turned to him. “Of course I do, simpleton. I’m a military wife. There are things that we have to learn in order to help our fellow sisters when they are in need.” She took a smaller basket out of the large one and placed the items inside on the table beside the bed.

Roy’s eyes widened when he saw the wicked, little knife. “What in all hell is that for?” He exclaimed.

“To cut the cord. That is to sew up any tears. And that–,”

“Never mind.” Roy felt himself turning green at all of the things dancing behind his eyes. He was now heartily glad he was being banished to the other room.

Then Gracia plucked up some of the most offending items and deposited them in his hands. “You are going to take care of these things. I need them sterilized.”

Roy blinked dumbly at her, waiting for guidance on that one.

Gracia looked at him for a second, and then rolled her eyes. “Go into that kitchen that I helped you stock so efficiently–say thank you, Gracia–and find two large pans. Fill them both with water.” When she was sure he was following her, she continued. “Heat one to boiling–and I _know_ you’re capable of doing that. Heat the other one hot enough to make sure these all the soap is out of these linens I brought with me.”

Roy nodded.

“I want you to put those things into the boiling pan of water. Leave them in there long enough to sterilize them. Wipe them with a clean, white cloth and bring them back–no, scratch that. Have Maes bring them back to me.”

He nodded again, and listened to the rest of her instructions. Lastly, reached into the large basket and pulled a bottle of scotch from the bottom. She handed it over. “What’s this?” he asked. “For more sterilization?”

“No. That’s for you and my husband. You’ll need it.”

Roy did all of the things she asked him, taking the instruments (what did she need with scissors? He wanted to ask) back to Gracia himself. Opening the door, he handed them over, looking at Riza.

The pains had to be coming closer, because when she turned to him, he could see the fires of hell in her eyes. He beat a hasty retreat into the front room with his friend and that nice bottle of scotch.

They made it halfway through the before the first yells were heard. Maes had to help Roy unclench his hand from the armrest of the couch three times.

“It can’t be _that_ painful, can it?” He asked Maes, and shook his head to still the swimming in his vision. He stood and walked toward the bedroom, shaking off Maes’ hand and opening the door. He stepped in and walked up to the bed, thinking that he could give Riza some comfort in her travail. He managed to put his hand on her brow and stroked once before she looked at him and growled. He snatched his hand back and looked at Gracia and repeated the same question he posed to her husband.

“Painful?” Riza growled at him. He jumped about three steps back and looked at her horrified. “Try spitting a cannon ball out of your ass, Roy! That’s how pain-painful this is!”

He backed toward the door. “Um... okay. I’ll just... wait out here.”

“Good idea,” Riza spat, her eyes dark and dangerous.

He shut the door and leaned against it.

“Not a good idea to go in there, old friend,” Maes told him.

Roy looked at him. “Now you tell me.”

They passed the next few hours huddled around the bottle of scotch and listening to the foul things coming from the other room. Roy had never heard such language pass Riza’s lips in all of the time he’d known her. But, he did learn that she was a true soldier at heart, and had learned the best curses the military life had to offer. He winced and swallowed scotch with each yell and scream, and as they grew in intensity, Maes fell to simply filling his glass and standing back while Roy got up and began to pace.

“God-damned-son-of-a-bitch-part-time-cock-sucker!”

He stared. That was the best one he’d heard to date. Part-time cocksucker?

There were more growls, cries and pleas for release. He fell back to wearing a hole in the floor.

“I’m not going to be able to do this, Gracia!” She yelled once.

“Of course you are!” Gracia yelled back. “Women have been doing this since the beginning of time.”

“Yeah, well those women are insane!” A pause where Roy heard groaning. “You are insane, Gracia. How did you do this?”

“The same way you are doing it. Now I’m going to need you...” The voice faded away as Gracia stopped trying to speak louder than her patient did.

“I’m never going to touch her again, Maes,” Roy promised, weaving on his feet. He looked over at Maes, who was holding an empty scotch bottle and staring at his feet. “You hear me? Never.”

“I had such a nice weekend planned,” Maes said mournfully. “Now it’s ruined. Ruined, I tell you.”

“It’s his fault!” Riza yelled at the top of her lungs. “ _Your fault, Roy Mustang! You hear me! I’m being ripped in half and it’s your fault! Come here, bastard, so I can–,_ ”

“Push, Riza, now!”

Roy moaned to himself. Never. Not a finger, not a hand. He wouldn’t even look in her direction. He would never make this happen to her ever again.

Riza screamed. All of the hairs rose on the back of Roy’s neck. “ _He should have bitten your cock off in the Academy, you bastard!”_

His jaw hit the floor. He turned and stared at Maes, who looked equally shocked. “Do you tell your wife every damned thing, Maes?”

Maes gave him a weak smile and went back to staring at the floor and moaning about his ruined weekend.

“Riza, if you push this can be over soon!” Gracia said.

“How about I push that son-of-a-bitch’s head up his own ass?”

Gracia laughed at that. Actually laughed. “That might make you feel better, but it won’t get the baby out any faster. Now give me everything you have.”

There was more invective. _Much more_. Roy was about to run out into the rain and bury his head in the front yard and pray that lightning would strike him square in his ass, when he heard something that stopped his heart in his chest.

He listened to it for a full minute before moving like a freight train toward the door. He was stopped only by Maes grabbing him around the waist. In a tangle of half-drunk limbs, they both fell to the floor.

“I wouldn’t go in there yet, if I were you,” Maes whispered juicily in his ear.

They lay there, unable to really figure out how to untangle themselves, until the door opened.

Roy kicked and squirmed, ignoring Maes’ yelps of pain, and stood.

Gracia moved toward him, a beatific smile on her face and a bundle in her arms. Roy tried to look around her into the door, but could see nothing in the half-light of the room. Gracia took away his attention by simply placing the bundle in his arms. He trembled, afraid he would drop it.

“Here,” she said without much preamble. “Hold your daughter while I go and take care of her mother.”

_A daughter_. Roy couldn’t move, for fear that he would drop the precious bundle in his arms. He did manage to gently move back the cover and look into her face for the first time.

She was red and looked about as angry as her mother sounded a moment ago. Her eyes, however, were open and clear, a shiny color that was an odd shade of blue. When the cool air hit her face, she suddenly shut those eyes, balled up two tiny little fists and let out a wail that almost split his eardrums.

It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

Maes peeked over his shoulder. “You two make one hell of a beautiful baby, Roy,” he said quietly.

Roy grinned from ear to ear and pushed back the blanket from her head a bit more. “Hey,” he said, staring. “Where is her hair?”

Maes laughed, and clapped Roy on the back. “Elysia was the same way. Armstrong had more hair than she did. It’ll grow in.” Maes said at Roy’s dubious look. “Trust me.”

The door to the room opened once more. Gracia peeked out. “Riza wants to see her daughter,” she announced. “And her daughter’s father.”

Roy was still rooted to his spot, unable to move. Maes gave him a little push to get him going.

He stepped through the door, thinking he’d be encountering the same monster he’d heard growling from the other room in the past few... had it really been ten hours? Instead, he saw a tired Riza, lying propped against a pile of pillows. Her hair was lank and sweaty, and there was a little bruise near her right eye. Her lips were raw from being bitten, and he would swear until he died that he saw nail marks in the headboard.

But she was smiling. And that was a good sign. He moved closer, until he could sit in the chair quickly vacated by Gracia. He stared at Riza until he heard the door shut behind him.

“She’s beautiful,” were the first words he could think to say.

Riza leaned over and looked. Roy started and managed to hand over his daughter to her mother. Riza took the bundle and stared at the girl for an eternity. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were suspiciously shining. “Okay,” she said in a hoarse, weak voice. “Perhaps I’m glad that he didn’t bite your cock off in the Academy.”

Roy laughed and grinned until his face hurt. In the back of his mind, he resolved then and there that he was going to be successful in his coup. He _had_ to be, if for no other reason than to protect the two people lying in the bed in front of him.

Then, the second words that he could think to say came flying out of his mouth before he could think to stop them. “You’ll marry me, of course, Hawkeye.”

Riza looked up at him, perfectly serious. “Of course I will, sir.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally, she's here! Thanks guys for reading and leaving your comments and kudos. We'll be back to the serious action before you know it!


	48. Can't Stay on Your Morphine 'Cause It's Making Me Itch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“That means...”  
>  “They could be anywhere.”_

 

] o [ ] o [ ] o [

**Games without Frontiers**

**Chapter 46: Can’t Stay on Your Morphine, ‘Cause it’s Making Me Itch**

**Rating T**

**Soundtrack: Like a Pill – P!nk**

 

The next week passed in a blur, for everyone in the house. Maes left them that night, because he had to return to work. Gracia stayed, as per their agreement, to help Riza through the first few days. Roy... Roy was a useless, helpless case for at least three of those seven days. All he seemed able to do was stare at their daughter, get in Gracia’s way, and turn purple whenever the baby’s diaper needed changing.

Riza’s life revolved around little moments. Those moments revolved around four things: sleeping, feeding her daughter, staring at her daughter, and feeding herself. She wasn’t allowed to do much else for that first week. Gracia wouldn’t allow it, and the dark glares from Roy whenever she tried to venture far from her bed kept her trapped within the four-poster monstrosity until she wanted to scream. Inactivity was not something Riza was familiar or comfortable with. Feeding her daughter expended no more energy than it took her to unbutton her gown, feeding herself was simple enough–fork to mouth to plate to mouth to plate. Sleeping was the easiest of all. Riza found herself mind-bendingly exhausted for a good portion of the first week, dropping off into sodden sleep at the most inopportune times.

With the rest of the time she had, her waking moments, she spent thinking. Roy might have thought her distracted enough by their daughter not to remember what he’d told her while she was in labor, but she was far from it. And she watched him during her waking moments, reading, jotting down notes, thinking and muttering to himself. He was making plans. Plans finally to make his move. Plans to upend the entire government from the way it was.

Plans that, apparently, did not include her.

She had always assumed that she would be at his back when he finally made that step, protecting him, watching for traps, ready to defend. But that was before. Before the day, Maes called her up with a wild, hair-brained scheme that put her in her current position.

It was simple practicality that she remain safe in the house. There was no one else to protect their child, and it wouldn’t have done for both of them to be at risk during this time. If all went awry, their daughter would quickly find herself an orphan. That was an incomprehensible thought.

Nevertheless, it was almost as incomprehensible that Riza would not be there for the final strike.

She was angry. She felt manipulated, coerced. Her logical centers told her this was the furthest from true fact, but her emotional centers–the area of her brain currently running the game–told her that Roy had planned it this way, to keep her safe, as he so eloquently put it. She didn’t need to be kept safe. She was a capable soldier. She could outshoot, out stalk, and–most days–outthink her commanding officer. He would need her clear head, quick eye and steady hand.

“Riza.” Gracia’s voice broke her current train of thought. “Stop glaring like that. You’ll scare the baby.”

Riza blinked up at her friend, and then gave a half-hearted smile. “Sorry. It’s just that... damn it, I should be helping him!”

Gracia shook her head. “You should be right where you are. And don’t you think you’re helping him right now?”

Riza frowned.

“If you were in on the whole thing, he’d be worried sick about his daughter, and you know it.” Gracia sat on the edge of the bed and tweaked the tiny girl’s little nose. “He wouldn’t be able to think clearly, thinking that she was here all by herself without her parents.”

Riza sniffed impotently. “Still...”

“No still. You are where you need to be and he is doing what he needs to do. I’m not asking any questions about it, and I don’t think you should be either.”

Riza stared at Gracia. “No offense, Gracia, but you’re not a soldier. I have responsibilities, duties.”

Gracia arched an eyebrow. “And you think I don’t? Military spouses have responsibilities and duties too.”

Riza looked away, trying her best not to offend Gracia, who’d given up a period of her life to help Riza learn how to take care of a newborn. Everyone agreed that she would stay for the six-week period Riza would be incapacitated. Elysia would stay with grandparents, safe from the upcoming fray herself.

Maes was probably worrying himself sick as well, separated from wife and child. Riza winced, feeling bad for them, and like a churl for being so selfish. “I’m sorry, Gracia. This... operation must be hard on you as well.”

“Every day that Maes goes to work is hard on me.”

Riza looked up at her.

“You soldiers... it’s your job to go out and put yourselves in the line of fire. In danger every day, whether on a battlefield or behind a desk. The potential for danger is always there for you, and you’re always prepared for it.” Gracia shook her head. “We military spouses... we have to let you soldiers go every day, and pray that you come back in one piece. And dread that one call that all spouses dread.”

Riza closed her eyes. “I’m sorry... I never thought of it that way.”

Gracia looked her in the eye. “Start thinking that way. I have a feeling your duties are about to change.”

Riza looked up, open-mouthed. “I don’t think–,”

“If Roy succeeds, then you’ll be the wife of the Fuhrer, with a whole new set of duties that may or may not include the ones you currently have.”

Riza stared.

“And... if he fails.” Gracia sighed and Riza watched as she bunched the cover up in one fist. “Then you’ll be... be a military widow, living on a pension.”

Riza looked down at her daughter. The girl was sleeping, something she did more than her mother did. Riza ran a gentle finger down the tiny cheek, rested her smallest finger in the tiny grasp.

There was a sound at the door of her room. She looked up and saw Roy standing there, his expression unreadable. “I was supposed to be at your back, Mustang,” she said rebelliously, her last ditch effort.

His eyes narrowed. “You will be, Hawkeye,” he said shortly, turning from the door. “Just not in the way you planned.”

“Damn you!” She yelled. The baby immediately let out a wail of protest. She pulled the girl to her and rocked her quiet.

“Don’t fight him, Riza,” Gracia pleaded. “You know it’s not practical for you to be in the line of fire with him. You know it.”

Riza subsided against the pillows, tired again. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. Or enjoy being manipulated.”

Roy suddenly appeared back at the door. This time his expression was furious. “Manipulated?” he growled, keeping his voice lowered for the baby’s sake alone. He took three steps into the room, and then stood there, hands fisted at his sides. “So you think I made you pregnant so you wouldn’t be at my back?”

Riza straightened her own gaze hardening.

“You are my right hand, Riza. You think I like the idea of you being miles away when I need you most? I hate it. I loathe the idea of going into this without you right there. But you know what?” He pointed. “She needs you at her back more than I do.”

“Then why do this now, Roy? Why not wait until I can be at your back?”

“Do you want to know what I found out?” He closed in on her, leaning over and hissing into her face. “Do you want to know what I know that not even Maes knows? Want to know about the report Edward sent me, about a week ago? The one I didn’t share with you because I didn’t want you going into labor in the damned office?”

“What? What did you learn that makes it so damned important that you make your move now?”

Roy looked over at Gracia.

Gracia shook her head. “I’m not leaving. You say what you have to say. If not telling Maes makes it safer for him, I’ll keep what I hear to myself.”

“Edward found out a few things. Scar is on the move.”

“So?”

“He’s gone with the other Ishballans to a little town called Lior. Remember that town, Riza?”

“Of course I do.”

“He’s being herded there by our forces. On the command of the Fuhrer. Want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because Scar has something the Fuhrer wants.”

“And what would that be?”

“Access to the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Riza’s breath stopped in her throat. “H-how?” She stammered.

Roy shook his head. “I have no idea. But he has it and the Fuhrer wants it. It’s why he’s built this damned army of State Alchemists.”

Riza nodded slowly. She knew that, knew that fact from the day she joined Roy’s service.

“Something else.”

Riza leaned back, wondering if she wanted to hear this.

“Doctor Winters? She’s not at all what she seems.”

“We knew that, Roy. We–,”

“She’s been the attending physician of every baby born to alchemists in the military for the past fifty years. Now, does she look that old to you?”

Riza’s mouth unhinged. If that had been the case, Doctor Winters was either a prodigy or she had to be in her sixties. At the least. The Doctor Winters she knew looked to be, at the oldest, in her early forties. “What does that all mean? How does it connect? I don’t understand.”

Roy ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “All I know is that Doctor Winters gets her orders from the Fuhrer. I don’t quite know anything other than that yet. But, Edward also reported running across one of those damned homunculi again.”

“Oh, no!”

Roy nodded. “Just one. The shapeshifting one. Apparently likes to brag, that one. Edward told me that he found out that there were more of them. More than the three we know of. He was told that they were in places we would least expect them to be.”

“That means...”

“They could be anywhere.”

Riza added up the column and came up with an answer that chilled her blood. “You think that Doctor Winters is one of them?” She shook her head. “That’s crazy, Roy. You know it’s crazy.”

“It’s crazy that any of them exist at all. And if this one can change his shape to whatever he wants, what’s to say that another of them can’t do the same?”

Riza looked down at her daughter, seeking the solace of those peaceful features. She hated it when Roy was in these moments, when he made these fantastic leaps of logic, hated it immensely when he picked up the pieces on the big game board he called his Great Plan, and moved them in configurations that weren’t part of the original plan.

Because, in every case, she later found out that his leaps of logic were right on the mark. And, his moves were accurate to the smallest measurement. And as each leap and move brought him closer to his goal, so did each one bring him straight into the line of fire.

And for this one, she indeed would not be there to block the blows.

“Charlotte,” she whispered. “We’re naming her Charlotte. No discussion. No argument.”

Roy looked down at their daughter and put his hand on Riza’s. “Of course.” He smiled, in relief or pure humor, she couldn’t tell. “Can I pick the middle name?”

“If you say Flora, I’ll kick you.”

]o[

 

“I miss you, my dear,” Maes cooed. “Are you being good with your grandma? You are? What are you doing now, baby? Ah, I wish I were there to take a picture!”

He actually felt a little pain in the middle of his chest at the sound of his daughter’s voice. Damn, but he missed his precious angel. He wanted her home, and he wanted to wrap himself around Gracia as well. But, he knew that the both of them were safer where they were. With everything he’d learned they definitely were far safer separate from him than within his grasp.

They had used him. The people he’d made an oath to, used him. Not for the betterment of the country, but for their own ill-gotten gain.

“What, darling? Oh, yes, Auntie Riza’s little baby is very cute. Not as cute as you, though. No one is as cute as my beautiful flower. Dinner? Okay, darling, I’ll call and talk to you tomorrow.” He winced as she asked him the question he’d been dreading. “Well, honey, Daddy is working on a very special case, and Mommy is helping Auntie Riza take care of her new baby, so it would be best to stay where you are. Don’t you like playing with Grandma’s kittens? You do. Well, it’ll only be a few more days, honey, I promise. I promise. You go and eat dinner now. I love you, sweetheart. Bye-bye!”

He dropped the phone into the receiver with a long sigh. His heart was breaking. He wanted his daughter and wife with him. He would very happily jump into the breach with Roy, if only to make these sons of bitches pay for separating him from his wife and child.

A throat clearing startled him. He looked up and across his desk.

Into Archer’s placid, sky-blue eyes.

He kept the urge to lunge across the desk to himself and, instead, fed the man a charming smile. “Archer! I wanted to thank you for your hard work while I’ve been gone,” he said expansively, throwing his ‘goofier-than-thou’ shield up out of instinct. “I never expected a search for one simple maniac to take so long.”

“It’s all a part of my duty, sir. And, from what I’ve been told, nothing about these type of people is simple.”

_You got that right, you bastard._

Maes plucked a pen from his desk and flipped open the first folder in his stack. _Disciplinary investigation of unnecessary expenditures for one Elric, Edward._ He shook his head. “I swear if Edward spends one more cenz, Roy is going to lose ten percent of his budget for next year,” he said. “It’s a good thing they’re all perfectly legitimate expenditures.”

“Ah, the automatic alarm bells go off again, sir?” Archer asked his voice as smooth and pure as rancid water.

“As usual. I can’t imagine the paperwork I’m going to have to send out to override that budget loss.”

“Do you think the lad will find what he’s looking for?”

Maes looked up at his subordinate. _I hope he does_ , you ass, he thought. _I’ll find great pleasure in watching him use it to wipe your friends right off the face of this world._

That was one thing he hadn’t told Roy, although he was positive Roy would add up the column for that conclusion soon. Archer was affiliated with these... homunculi. He didn’t know exactly how–the bastard was too good at covering his tracks for even him to follow–but he was affiliated in some way with those horrid creatures.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, sir, but did you say that Major Hawkeye had gone into her confinement?” Archer asked, a change in his voice pattern catching Maes’ attention. Maes looked up at the man and couldn’t see much beyond that cool gaze. How in the hell did blue-eyed people do innocence so fucking well?

And, damn, he hadn’t meant for anyone to hear about that yet. _Nosy no-good..._ “Ah, yes. Actually, she’s with family,” he tried to sound casual, hoping the man wouldn’t pry for more information. Normally, he would have thrown in a picture of Elysia to distract, but he didn’t want Archer’s eyes anywhere near his precious daughter, even in the abstract.

“Well, I wish her much good luck with her new experiences.” Archer stood. “Did you have anything in particular you wanted me to work on today, sir?”

_Yeah, fucking yourself into oblivion would be nice._

“Ah, no. As you were, Major. Have a report on your progress on my desk by the end of the day.”

The temperature in the room went up a good ten degrees as the man took himself from Maes’ office. Maes slid the tiny knife back into his sleeve from where it had been resting in his hand, and went back to his work.

 

]o[

 

“Where is the brat?” He wanted to know. “And what the hell are you doing here?”

The new addition to this privy meeting was not expected, or particularly wanted, although he was technically one of them.

“It was boring at my old place,” the... man drawled, lowering his shades so that he could give his questioner a derisive gaze. The red mark on his hand clashed with the reflective green of the lenses.

“And just how did you get out of your _old place_? The last I heard, there was no such thing as an escape for you.”

“There’s no such thing as no such thing,” he was told. “Things happened. And... Boom!” He spread out his hands. “I’m here. And curious. I heard things were getting thick and heady.”

He was promptly ignored as an irritated blue gaze turned on the only... woman in the room. “I asked you a question. Where is Envy?”

“Picking on the Pipsqueak,” Lust told him. She extended her nails and played with the gold braid on his uniform.

He brushed her fingers away and paced across the tiny examination room. “And where is that lazy bitch who likes to play doctor?”

Lust laughed low in her throat. “She’s on her way. She won’t be happy with your news.”

“I’m not happy with my news. It means that they’re suspicious of something.”

“Or it could just mean that the little spawn decided to come with it was ready.”

“Well, in any case, we have to get our hands on it. And it’s mother.”

“I certainly doubt that the mother will just let you wander in and... borrow her little precious one.”

He turned an icy glare on the sultry construct. “Don’t you worry about that. Unlike the rest of you, who seemed to be obsessed with that little bastard Fullmetal, I have more substantial plans.”

“Of course you do. And we leave all of that... complicated mess in your capable hands.” Lust leaned back on the table, placing her hands behind her and inhaling, dragging at his attention with her obvious charms. “He wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Humph.” The door opened slowly, and Doctor Winters moved into the room. His lip curled as he took in her changed appearance. The severe hairstyle was gone, although she clung to the examination coat as if it were her only piece of clothing. As she turned to close the door, the coat opened and he could see the black shirt beneath it. Two tiny straps held the thing over her generous bosom, much more enticing than the other whore in the room who thought she had to put her wares on display for everyone to see. His inner demon growled, wanting to lick the little red tattoo that peeked through on her shoulder. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded to know.

“Trying to locate my patient,” she said, shrugging a smooth shoulder. She brushed her hair from her face in a slow, lazy movement and raised her violet eyes to him. “She’s in Geisa.”

He smiled, and moved toward her. Putting his arms on her shoulders, he gave her an approving smile. “Good work, dear. Is she alone?”

Winters shrugged indolently. “She can be. Doesn’t the Colonel have to provide a report on his... findings?”

He smiled again, remembering why he’d given her the task to which she’d been assigned. There was actually a remnant of a brain beneath all of that, and, on occasion, she put it to work. He suddenly turned to the other two in the room. “Lust, take your little toady with you. Find the Brat and have him... pick up our quarry. This is what I want done.” He was quick and concise with his instructions, so that even the single-minded eating machine at Lust’s right could understand what he wanted done.

When they were gone, he turned his regard back on the good doctor. Slowly, languidly, in keeping with her nature, he moved the examination coat off her shoulders and gave in to his earlier impulse.

The... woman... actually purred under his attentions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thanks for sticking with me throughout this remix. I apologize for the loooong time in updating, but here we are back again! I'm loving the commentary and kudos; they are my sunshine! 
> 
> And don't forget to follow me on my [my tumblr](http://crackalchemist.tumblr.com) to stay updated!


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